


Poisonous

by Greenninjagal



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Drugs, F/M, Kronos is a Drug, M/M, Murder Mystery, Sorry Not Sorry, This author should not be allowed to write....ever, its all fun and games until someone dies, whoops my hand slipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-04 15:41:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11558280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenninjagal/pseuds/Greenninjagal
Summary: Luke Castellan had an eidetic memory. He could riddle off anything from anywhere. He liked to call it a gift. Even when he was drunk and overwhelmed in the sheer greatness of his half brothers parties. If it was important, he could recall it in an instant.Luke couldn’t remember what happened after he kissed Thalia.The next thing he knew he was on the ground being handcuffed and he was covered in her blood.





	1. The Dead Man Fearing Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jungle321jungle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jungle321jungle/gifts), [thedragonsarecats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedragonsarecats/gifts).



_Parties like this only happened once in a lifetime. The sound, a pounding rhythm that seemed to sweep everyone up in its joy and life, the smell of sweat and the screeching of so many people singing, talking, celebrating. The flashing lights that illuminated bursts of strangers who smiled and hugged you like you were best friends. The burn of alcohol and the understanding that no one around you was under three cups and you yourself weren’t entirely sober either. Luke loved parties like this._

_  
_ _That’s why whenever he and the Stolls-- his half brothers-- were in the same city, there was always a party like this_.

***

“STAY DOWN!” An unfamiliar voice shouted at him, “MAKE ONE MORE MOVE AND I’LL SHOOT!”

Confusion washed over his lead laden limbs. Something was missing. He knew something was missing. Namely  the who and the what and the where. Luke struggled to breathe. He felt like his entire chest had been crushed in upon himself, every rib shattered, both of his lungs impaled, and his heart squeezed into putty.

There was something sticky all over his face, his arms, _him._ He tried to remember-- god what was this feeling? He always remembered. Every last detail. Happy as the moment he meant Thalia Grace, Miserable as the moment he listened to his mom breathe her last. He remembered his first taste of alcohol, the first feeling of skinning his knees, the first time he heard glass breaking.

Why couldn’t he remember?

There were sirens all around him, screams and orders. He knew there was something wrong: There was a weight on his back crushing him to the floor, his limbs seemed to expire on him, the blinding white light had flooded over Luke like a sea. He was swept up in it, lost in it.

“ZOE! WE’RE LOSING HIM!”

Luke felt his muscles clench and unclench and everything shake and seize and break. He felt every tremble downloading the pain in his memory as if to make up for that missing time. It wasn’t right. He couldn’t move his body, not in any way that counted. He was on familiar ground that he knew he he had seen before. The tiles were dark but they leaked drops of liquid, splatterings of red and amber. Alcohol and--

Fresh footsteps. Luke heard the new voices shouting over one another but never finishing their statements, every word was a blow to the head.

There was commotion nearby. Luke could see it through the haze that had pulled him under. Medics: underdressed, with white gloves painted red. So very red. They were surrounding something---

A medic confronted him, blocking his view of the outside. He was an average height, shining a flashlight in Luke’s eyes before he could catch much more than the silhouette. He was saying words Luke didn’t want to hear, not after a party, not after waking up in cold sweat, so confused.

“What the Hell is in his system?”

***

Luke woke up in an interrogation room. He was handcuffed to the table, his limbs feeling only slightly more useful than before. He was still in his clothes, the same clothes he remembered picking out specifically for the party. The white tank top, tight against his skin, black lettering that spelled out some band he didn’t like but Thalia did. She had demanded he buy it with his “million dollar allowance”. The jeans were dark blue, enough to look black in the backlash of the strobe lights. His hands still had the black sharpie drawn X’s on them that proved he had been let into the club legally.

Luke strained his eyes. He was alone in the room, the air conditioner hummed through the wall. He should have been grateful for that, a sound, any sound, but Luke’s blood had already run cold, and everything seemed to pale in the comparison to his reflection in the one way glass.

He was covered in blood.

It wasn’t his.

It reached from his forehead straight down his cheek, like face paint, scarlet as roses, dried and flaking as it peeled off his neck and stained his t shirt. There was a distinct handprint on his chest, and another on his exposed arm. Long scratches raced his shoulders and his throat, nail marks made by a desperate animal.

Luke’s eyes stared back at him, not believing-- _refusing_ to believe any of it. No this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t happen. It was suppose to be a fun night.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember.

The door opened and Luke looked up more fearful than he had ever been in his life. Sure he had spent his fair share of time sitting in this chair, mouthing off to police interrogators, biding time until the charges against him were dropped. But he’d never been covered in blood. He’d never blanked on exactly what had happened. He never forgot anything.

The woman who walked in was years older than him. She had tanned skin and violent, searching eyes. She radiated a cool control that filled the room until Luke was almost choking on it. Her hair was braided behind her back and her suit tailored and fitted. She carried in two millia folders, one blue and one red.

She looked him in the eyes, so cold, so hateful, Luke wanted to throw up.

“Mr. Castellan,” She said his name formally, as if addressing him would humanize him.”Do you know why you are here?”

“Where’s Thalia?”

“We’ll get to that. Answer my question first.”

Luke swallowed hard. His throat was drier than sandpaper. His brain was fuzzy around the edges, filling the silence was flashes from the night that he could remember.

_“Drinks on us tonight!”_

_“Hey, hot stuff, Wanna dance?”_

_“Over my dead body--”_

_“Luke wait. Luke!”_

Luke gasped in pain, doubling over in his chair. He dry gagged, bringing up nothing but stomach acid and a tidal wave of agony. He could hear her screaming, why was she screaming? He swore to protect her.

A hand cuffed the side of his head, hard enough to jostle him from his own memory. When had his own thoughts become an unnavigable maze?

“Hey.” The woman’s voice was sharp, “Castellan! Damnit! You breathe and you collect yourself and then you tell me exactly where you got Kronos!”

Luke heaved another breath, “What… What’s Kronos?”

She looked at him, “Don’t play stupid with me. You had more of that drug in your goddamn system than we have recovered in the past two years.”

“I don’t…” Luke tugged that the metal bracelets on his wrists, “Where’s Thalia? Is she okay?”

The woman slapped the folders on the table. “Have you ever been to jail Mr. Castellan? It’s not made for arrogant little boys such as yourself. Rich daddies kids? Doesn’t matter how much money you have. Jail will break you. Your best bet right now is to give out exactly who gave you that drug.”

“I didn’t...I swear! I didn’t take any drug!” Luke blinked hard. He hadn't taken any last night, had he? No he'd been with Thalia. They had that pact: alcohol until of of them dropped, but no drugs. Her brother had gotten addicted not too long ago and he was sent to rehab.

(Thalia hated talking about her family; Luke didn’t push any further)

The woman glared at him. Her hands tapped the folders on the table. With a twitch of her nose she opened one and read from the file.

“Luke Castellan. Age 20. Son of the big CEO of Hermes Enterprises. More money and more cars than you know what to do with.” Her eyes flickered back up at him. “Brought in on multiple charges of underage drinking, petty shoplifting, and general disturbance of the peace.” She closed the file, “and now a charge of first degree murder.”

This was not happening. This was some hallucination-- an after effect of alcohol poisoning. The blood on him couldn’t be real. He wasn’t a killer. He was _Luke_. He didn’t even know how to kill someone, who would he want to kill? He just wanted to take Thalia out to a party.

“There’s gotta be some misunderstanding.” Luke scrambled for an excuse, “We were all drunk-- I don’t do drugs, much less whatever the Hell this Kronos is.” He gulped for air, “Please if you just ask Thalia--”

_“Luke! Stop! Luk--Agh!”_

“I’m afraid that is going to be impossible.” The Woman said her voice colder than the winter nights in the city.

Luke opened and closed his mouth. He wanted to pull his hands over his ears and block out what he knew was coming next. Those words-- They were lies. They had to be lies. But there it was suddenly in his memory. A flash of the strobe lights, the loud pounding base drowning out her scream. The two of them pressed against the wall and her blue eyes dripping black mascara tears.

“You killed Thalia Grace, Mr. Castellan.”

***

_Luke watched with a stupid grin as people moved around him and with him like some massive animal. He swayed to the beat of a song he couldn’t place while he head was this tainted with beer. A couple of girls bumped past him smiling suggestively._

_“Hey hot stuff,” One asked, “Wanna dance?” Her lipstick was white. Under the lights it had turned a pastel purple and electric pink._

_Luke shook his head, and words probably came out too but when she and her friend were gone, Luke could no longer cared what she looked like or what he had said._

_  
_ _“I better be the only one you ever look at like that, Castellan!” A voice yelled from nearby. Even morphed by the weight of the music in the air, he recognized the voice. Luke turned mostly off balance to find his girlfriend standing behind him two red cups in hands. Under the beams of bright light she looked like danger and Luke knew she tasted like it too. Thalia Grace was a wild thing, and Luke loved every part of that._

  
_“I’m insulted, Thals!” Luke laughed, “I’m not allowed to look at anyone ever again?”_

***

Zoe Nightshade had been four hours asleep when she had gotten the call. An Emergency, they said. At a club. When hadn’t there been an emergency at a Nightclub? Her presence had been required; it didn’t matter if she was already worked overtime and had spent the day filing case report after case report. So she had slipped on something presentable, tossed herself out of her one person apartment, and stole into the debt of night.

She had expected it to be another rich kid mugged of his money and ODed on the bathroom floor of a shady dance club where witnesses were too drunk to spell their own names or pick out what brand of drink they had been enjoying.

She had not expected to be interrogating the son of a rich CEO before five A.M. on the conviction of bloody murder. He had been out for a couple hours-- sedated. She’d thank Solace for that if she had ever been one to dish out compliments on the fly. So instead she stood in the viewing room, stalk still, digesting how this _kid,_ barely an adult could inflicted all the damage that she had seen.

Emergency, the call had said. She hadn’t been prepared for that much blood.

_“You never know what to expect.”_

“Nightshade,” A voice called to her. She glanced at the only other occupant of the room. A subordinate she had at her command, Nico Di Angelo. He wasn’t much of a talker, but when he did speak, you listened. It was a common rule, and perhaps the only one Zoe elected to follow. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, which seemed to be a reoccurring theme this morning. Bags under his eyes, dark suit with a silver tie. He had an expensive watch on his right wrist that he never took off. His fashion was an open debate among the whispered gossip of the office. Did he dress himself or was it a girlfriend? Was he really that young or did he just use a really good moisturizer?

Zoe gave him her attention. He pointed to her phone, in the clip on her hip. “Ring, ring.” He said, before going back to watching Luke Castellan sleep in the interrogation room. She hadn’t even noticed it had been going off.

She had a dozen frantic messages on the screen, all from the same person: Solace. The first couple were combinations of keyboard-smashed letters. The last one was the only thing she cared about. The bold words of: DONTMOVCOMINUP.

No sooner had she read it than the bright and smiling sun god himself burst into the room. He was panting, out of breath in a way that suggested he had bolstered the stairs from the forensics lab all the way up without hesitation.

“Oh my...God..” He gulped in air doubling over. “I swear I was in shape--”

“What is it?” Zoe asked, admittedly too tired to deal with whatever small talk he had prepared.

“You are not going to believe this!” He panted again, his smile was gone. When he looked up at her there was nothing short of a serious investigator in him, which was usual as he was just their resident medic. “Phoebe finished her analysis.”

“And?”

“Oh my _god.”_ He ran a hand through his blonde locks, presenting her with a familiar and terrifying red folder. Zoe stared at it, that stupid casefile.

She hated that file, her own handwriting on the pages looked like knife cuts in the paper. She hated the way she had described everything, documented everything as if writing it down would have removed it from her head once and for all. She hated that it was the only case she’d ever had that had gone cold.

Beside her Nico stiffened. He knew that case as well. It was the only thing that had drawn them together: A missing girl, a bridge, and a driver with a drug in his system that made him drive over the edge. Then later: Exactly four pages of Zoe’s own notes: The reason she had no set partner anymore, the reason a woman was lying in a hospital bed paralyzed, the reason Zoe had the best firing accuracy out of the whole government agency.

_“Nightshade! Clear the room!”_

_“Arte--!”_

_“Get Down!”_

Next time she swore, she wouldn’t miss the goddamn dealer.

“Why do you have that?” Zoe asked coldly of the medic in front of her.

“To save you the trip downstairs.” He looked at her as if to apologize, “You’ve got a new lead. Phoebe found it in his system.”

“Kronos?” Zoe repeated as if it could be any other drug. Still she wished he hadn’t nodded, “How much?”

He looked uneasy, shifting from foot to foot, “Enough to kill an elephant, Zoe. By all means...he should be dead.”

They all turned to look at the unconscious man in the other room. His chest rose and fell steadily nodding his head. He would wake soon-- Zoe would have to go in there and face the monster who had slammed a girl repeatedly on a wall until she had fallen far from consciousness. He wore her blood on his skin, his clothes, the desperate scratches of a girl trying to defend herself from a boy who had taken a drug from Hell.

Luke Castellan stirred, waking slowly, carefully aware of a new environment.

“Solace!” Zoe snapped, “Get me a coffee.”

“Right away ma’am!” He tumbled over himself to get out of the room.

Nico sighed and sat back in the recorder’s chair. He put on a headset, “This is going to be a long day.” He said.

Zoe’s fingers felt the edge of the casefile. She didn’t say a word, but she agreed.

***

_“I meant that stupid suggestive look you have, idiot.” She handed him a cup, “Like you wanna take anyone other than me to bed.”_

_“Come on, Grace! You know I would never!” He swished his cup downing all of it in one go. Thalia was never one to be outdone in anything, especially not drinking. She stacked their empty cups with a vicious grin._

_“Your turn,” She purred into his face. Her breath was a cloud of strawberry and alcohol. “Don’t go easy on me.”_

_“Your mom is going to kill me.”_

_“You’ll be too drunk to feel it.”_

_Luke stole a kiss and slipped from their table. There were more people in the club tonight than there had been at any other night. The lights flung wildly. Luke glanced up at the stage to see his half brothers high as hell on the music. They were dressed in inverses tonight: Travis in white with green face paint and high tops, Connor in green with white face paint and white high tops. They both wore electric blue headphones and danced around each other to create music that only the both of them on the same wavelength could do._

_He gave them a wave and Travis shot him finger guns._

_***_

“I can’t believe this....” Connor Stoll ran his hand through his hair. “Luke wouldn’t…”

“We watched him.” Travis replied coldly. “We saw it with our own eyes.”

“This is Luke were talking about though.” Connor repeated, “Luke.” As if saying his name again would make the nightmare in the other room go away.

Travis leaned back against the table fiddling with his bandages. His arm was broken, and the good doctor had wrapped it up tight and gave him enough pain killers to commit suicide. No matter how many he took he could still feel the violent pulsing pressure in his arm, the wound on the back of his head, and somewhere else totally and completely unaffected by any mortal medicine.

The police had taken Connor’s headphones on their way in. It was probably a good thing. Now they were forced to look at each other or at least exist in the same room together again, to realize what last night had meant.

Travis wondered where his headphones had ended up. Were they in evidence? Locked away under watch of a sleepy middle aged man who one day years from now might boredly take them out and use them to listen to songs from a commandeered Ipod? Or were they still lost in the abyss of HalfBlood never to be recovered?

They had bought the headsets together, him and Connor. Luke had chosen the color.

“Luke.” Connor mumbled again. He stared at the table not at his brother. Travis watched him in the reflection of the interrogation room window. He was unhurt except for minor bruises in certain spots as he had rushed to grapple for a phone. If Travis was one for counting blessings, the first one on the list was that they kept their phones on stage. The Second was that an exit had been not fifteen feet from them.

Travis….Travis was glad it had been him and not Connor.

He was also so horribly, unapproachably enraged that it had been him and not Connor. That it had been them at all.

That it had been Luke at the party with the girl he had been _gushing_ about for weeks, the one who should have been nothing to a refined CEO’s legitimate son because she was nothing more than the bitchy daughter of a hotel maid who ran the complimentary breakfast table at a hotel Luke stayed in and smuggled alcohol up to his room upon a joke request. That Travis had hated her, because she proclaimed to be born outside a marriage, and wore it _proudly_ , like she belonged in the world despite the world telling everyone like her that she was a mistake, a troublemaker, a lawsuit waiting to happen. That Travis couldn’t look at her without a burning sense of envy solidifying in his throat and vomiting up awful words that she brushed off like flies in the wind.

Travis hated that he had been high on the thrill of his own music that night-- last night? This morning?-- and he had looked up to see Luke, the party man, the acceptance, their one defender making out with her. He hated that he had kept watching, unable to tear his eyes away. That out of all the ugly, jumping frantic dancing silhouettes theirs were the ones he had noticed first. Then as he watched he saw Luke’s hands-- those trusting hands that had pulled him to his feet after May Castellan had explained in depth how much of bastard children he and his brother were-- he watched those hands circle around her throat. He watched her break the kiss, confused then scared, then her scream which he saw more than he felt. Travis watched Luke throw her back straight into the wall, pressing his lips on hers and only releasing her neck to grab her hand and keep her motionless.

Travis watched those hands pull her forward again and _slam_ her into the wall. Again, and again. And again.

He had missed four turnaround cues from his brother before he had managed to move. Before he had choked on reality. Before Connor had looked at him with a head cocked in the _“Dude What the Hell?”_ look they had perfected together. Before Travis had managed to make the words come out of his mouth.

Travis was glad that he had let Connor-- the only other sober person in the room-- call the police. It had him out of the way, safe. It had led him to being outside in the snap of the night cold and shaky, but he didn’t get hurt. That’s what had mattered.

Travis didn’t care if him leaping off the stage had gotten him a sprained ankle, he didn’t care if he had given a dozen drunken dancers heavy bruises. He hadn’t been in the right of mind but that hadn’t stopped him from charging at Luke, grabbing his shoulders hard screaming something he couldn’t remember.

Travis hated most of all that he had made eye contact with her, that girl, the one he hated. He had seen those confident eyes crying mascara tears wide with fear, mouth gaping, gasping for breath. He hated that he had been thrown off just enough that Luke, his _half brother,_ had slammed her that final time against the wall where the dark stains were too fresh to have been alcohol and the thickness of the liquid was splattered across it. He hated that he hadn’t been fast enough, strong enough and now she was dead.

Travis had seen her hit the wall so many times-- he had done nothing. Surely it had been a couples thing, going at it so many times, the kissing, her screaming, he didn’t know--

Luke had turned around dropping her limp body on the ground, his eyes trained on him with a wild energy and gold flaking his cold blue irises. He had seen Travis trying to break them apart and he had shoved at the younger boy. Those hands that had once promised him an acceptance, a safety, shoved him into the half wall. Travis couldn’t remember when the people in their drunken stupor had taken notice, was it before he had hit the wall, or after Luke had slammed his heel into Travis, snapping his head against it just like hers? Had it been when he had raised his arm in a bootless defense and had it broken like his bones had been replaced by eggshells?

Whatever the case.

“Luke…” Connor moaned, “I can’t believe-”

“Just shut up!” Travis snapped at him, “He killed her, he nearly killed me! The sooner you accept that the sooner…” He trailed off unexpectedly and angrily.

And Connor, as always, picked up, “The sooner what? What is it Travis? We can get on with our lives? We can pretend that he didn’t mean a thing to us? We can lie like Dad? What do we say Travis?”

Travis glared at the carpet. Who the fuck decided that tan was a good color for a carpet?

“What _can_ we say?” Connor rephrased his question, his tone soft as his emotions.

“I don’t know.”

Travis thought it was the most honest thing he had ever said.

There was a quiet between them, and it loomed in the air as much of a wall as the cinderblocks around them. Connor on one side huddled to the ground, clutching at the sun deprived grass. Travis stood on the other side his head against the the cold stone.

“I’m sorry.” Connor said.

“I know.” Travis replied because he wasn’t. He wasn’t sorry that he had told Connor to call the police. He wasn’t sorry that he had made his younger brother wait outside. He wasn’t sorry he had charged Luke. He wasn’t sorry that he had never apologized to _her_.

“Travis…” Connor tugged at his hair, “I trusted him.”

He did what he could to shove the memories away. He didn’t need to think about Luke calling him “brother” and Travis didn't want to be his brother, not anymore. He didn’t want to think about the text that Luke had sent him the couple days ago, or how excited over it they had been. He didn't want to pretend Luke was anything more than some distant half sibling with a name and a face Travis could never connect at the same time.

Connor breathed like there are daggers in his chest. He was climbing that silent wall between them, stretching over the top and, even though he’s afraid of heights, afraid of falling, he’s dangling a hand down to Travis. “Do you think we are going to survive this?”

_“Do you know who was supplying drugs last night at this club?”_

_“Who doesn’t?”_

Travis, for his part, actually looked at Connor, “Do we have a choice?”

***

_Luke weaved through the strangers, faces he recognized but didn’t ever have a name for. A couple smacked his back or raised their cups to him. He grabbed the handle of the steps, it was sticky with beer or sweat or something and yanked himself out of the dance pit. the bar was mostly full green bills floating across the counter in an endless stream as shot glasses changed and exchanged and disappeared and refilled._

_“I told you, honey!” A voice to his left caught his attention.There was a guy, hair blacker than night, and tussled more than just a little bit. He wore a vest with purple top that matched the glow of his sneakers. his skinny jeans were ripped at the knees and a silver chain looped from his front pocket the the back. “I don’t sell to girls.”_

_The girl next to him scoffed reply with an argument that was lost in the slur of her words and the rap from the speakers._

***

Zoe knocked. As per regulation. She did knock on the door. She did not however wait for it to be opened for her. With barely several seconds between her rapid knuckle-wood knock she slammed her heel into the crappy wood of the apartment door. The force of her hit broke it inward and Zoe lead Nico into the two person room like she owned it herself.

_“One day, rushing in is going to get you and your partner hurt, Nightshade.”_

_“What’s it matter to you?”_

_“Well, considering I’m your partner, Rookie, I thought it was obvious.”_

“Ethan Nakamura!” She yelled, ignoring the unwanted memories in her head, “Come out with your hands up!”

“What the everliving _fuck_!”

Ethan Nakamura, age 19, appeared from a nearby room looking equal parts hungover and irritated. He wore a purple hoodie, with the hood up and bright blue boxers with burgers on them. He peered at them with an expression of apathy. “What the _Hell_ do you want?”

Zoe turned to Nico, “Search the apartment.” He nodded and ghosted down the hall while slipping on his plastic gloves.

“Oh no. Not the study room!” Ethan cried in mock distress, “That’s where I keep my meth lab!”

“Shut up.” Zoe told him, “As of right now, you have been implemented in a murder crime.”

He didn’t look surprised. Actually he looked bored. “Oh?” He asked, “Who did the high idiot run over this time? Did he blame it on my selling to him drugs or on the drug itself?”

“Funny you should ask.” Zoe commented tone as icy as the winter breeze, “Where were you last night at eleven twenty?”

Ethan looked around the walls of this apartment in confusion. “As if I know? Come on, Lady! I don’t watch the clock every second of my day.” He rubbed his face, “Can I go put on some pants?”

“No,” Zoe said, “Did you sell anything illegal at the club HalfBlood, last night?”

“No,” Ethan copied her short retort, “I handed out some advil and a couple of friends wanted to pay me back for buying them lunch the other day.”

“This not a game.”

“The only thing I think is a game right now is you, Lady.” Ethan retorted, “You broke down my door and are searching my house for whatever reason. I don’t see a warrant or a badge. If I had something to hide, I’d kick you out right now and get away with it.”

Zoe scowled, a dark and grisly expression she saved for days when she had close to zero tolerance for the assholes on the street. She flipped open the cover of her jacket revealing her badge, the reflection casting a golden glow on the hardwood floor. Ethan stared at it for a moment as if he was actually surprised.

“Agent Zoe Nightshade. And Agent Di Angelo.” She introduced curtly.

Ethan started. “Wait what.”

Zoe allowed a flicker of confusion to hit her. Ethan suddenly looked more awake than before, startled by the name of an officer who only just started doing fieldwork.

“Nightshade!” Nico yelled-- Zoe took the moment to wonder at what could have possibly made him so mad. She didn’t have to wonder long. He appeared in the doorway looking murderous. In his hand was a single green hat.

“Hold on-!” Ethan exclaimed, “Whatever you think--It’s not true! I haven’t killed anyone!”

“This is Bianca’s hat!” Nico spit out.

“Who the Hell is Bianca?” Ethan backed up in response to the sudden rage coming off him. “Look I bought the hat at a garage sale--”

“A woman’s hat?” Zoe pestered.

Ethan took another retreating step into the doorway of presumably his bedroom, “It’s my girlfriend’s okay? Sometimes she sleeps over! Leaves her crap everywhere!” Then he repeats, “I didn’t kill anyone!”

“Where were you last night at eleven twenty?” Zoe reasked the question, hard, pressing him now that he’s clearly frazzled.

“Look okay yeah, I was at HalfBlood okay? But I left early! You can ask the bouncers! I spent the rest of the night driving around with my girlfriend. She didn’t drop me off until like two this morning!”

“What’s her name?”

Ethan stared at her as if he couldn’t fathom why that would be necessary. Nico growled under his breath, shaking so hard he might explode.

“Angela.” Ethan relented, “Her name is Angela.”

“Last name?”

Ethan threw his arms up, “Give me a pen and paper and I’ll write you her motherfucking address!”

Zoe took the two steps to hand him her notebook and allowed him to use her black pen. It takes him a couple tense minutes to scribble out her address and a small smile played on his lips until he was done. He handed it back.

“Something funny?” Zoe nips.

“Good Luck getting her to talk to you.” Ethan replied, sweetly, “Can I go put on some pants now? Or do I have to wait until you’ve searched my underwear drawer too?”

Zoe pressed her lips into a thin line and gave him a go ahead nod. “We’ll have more questions down at the station for you.” Nico, Zoe noticed, was gripping the hat so hard in his hands that even if there were finger print marks on it they might not be able to recover them intact.

“What’s so important about the hat?” She asked him once Ethan disappeared behind the door to his bedroom.

“She never went anywhere without it.” He said after a beat.

“And?”

Nico looked at her a dark intent in his eyes that made her wonder if it was smart to let him become an officer. “It was never recovered from the crime scene.”

Of course the crime scene had been an underwater car with a dead man inside. Not even her body had been found, dragged away by a current after she had opened a door in a struggle to get out. It  wasn’t surprising a hat had never been found.

There was the gunning of an engine from outside. The world seemed like such a small place all of a sudden.

Nico turned the hat upside down and showed Zoe the brim. The green fabric was worn from use and turmoil. Nico’s hands shook as her eyes swept across the brim to the inside lip and finally to the velcro latch in the back. Sharpie had been waterlogged and had bleed across the thick strip. One name was still plastered on it unreadable if one hadn’t been looking for it. Zoe hadn’t been looking for it.

Then again only Nico was still desperate to find his sister’s killer.

“We both marked everything of ours.” He spit, spilling off his silver watch. On the frame his own name was engraved.

Zoe pulled her gun from her holster and lurched to the door. Even if this jackass wasn’t involved in the crime of last night (doubtful), he was involved in a crime two years ago. And they had proof of that.

She kicked in his door once again. But there was no startled shout, no drop of curses or of items. There was no one in the room. Just a window that had been forced open, and a closet that had been half emptied.

_“Motherfucker--!”_

***

_At the bar counter he caught the eye of harried waitress who didn’t look old enough to be selling anything other than soda. She had fake fangs in and half her face doused in orange paint. Her crop top shirt was ripped rather than neatly tucked into her apron._

_“Something heavy! Thalia and Luke.” He shouted to her. She taking their cups and tossing them behind her on the ground before making new drinks for the both of them._

_Another guy shuffled beside him, slamming into the counter with enough force to knock over several drinks that had been sitting precariously on the side.“Oi! Sweetcheeks!” He bellowed, “Shots…I don’t care what type!” He turned to Luke, “Isn’t this the best man?” Luke nodded  and tossed the girl a couple bills as she handed him their drinks._

_“I fucking love this place!” The guy at the counter raged into full on laughter. He raised an arm, in a fist revealing a gold watch that would probably be stolen before the night was over._

_Luke squeezed past a couple trying to devour each other whole. He nearly lost his balance coming down the steps. laughed at nothing in particular. He left to light, like he wa floating and nothing could bring him down-- not even alcohol poisoning_.

***

Ethan Nakamura was not a killer. He had a shirt that proved that. The purple one shoved in the half closed bag in the passenger seat. It hadn’t been washed yet, he’d been too tired last night to do it.

If he asked nicely his girlfriend might do it for him.

He hoped.

God he was so tired. Even after he had left the club early. That girl had been so hands on. It made him miss the days when he could stand on a street corner and sell rather than a night club. And Cops? Who the Hell invited cops to the party?

Ethan used one hand to steer the truck, the other to pick at his bag until his hand found his phone. It was a burner with only one real contact, but perhaps that’s what made it so dangerous. It was a phone number that lead directly to his own personal slice of hell.

He sent a text to his girlfriend letting her know he would be over there in a couple minutes.

Then without taking his eyes off the road he pulled up his recent calls. The last number came up and Ethan pressed call.

It rang twice before it was answered. “Yell-o? Listen Di Angelo if this is--”

“Guess again,” Ethan cut off the other person. There was a quiet and then a loud curse and then a tumbled of multiple things. Ethan pictures it to be office supplies coming off their desk in their haste to get up, to get away.

“E-ethan.” The voice said, “Wha--why?” They were speaking in whispers. Ethan snorted and flashed his turn signal to change lanes.

“Relax,” Ethan told the phone, “After this conversation I’m dumping the phone anyway.”

They sighed, stressed. Ethan could picture them tugging at their blonde curls and looking doggedly around the office. They were never truly good at keeping secrets.

“I did what you asked,” They said. “I swear to the fucking gods--”

“Hey Language.” Ethan reprimanded as he bypassed a dark blue minivan. “Look I’m not asking for anything else, you little shit. You did what I asked-- I respect that. You and Kayla have done me a solid.”

The other voice winces at the sound of the girl’s name. “Why?”

Ethan laughed, “Isn’t that the question? Everyone’s always been asking that question. I’ll keep it short: Because.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“You’re not a detective. Or my mother.” Ethan reminded them, “There are many things going on that you don’t understand. I was just calling to say “thanks for the heads up”. Your debt has officially been repaid.”

They sighed audibly. “Thank god.” They were quiet for a moment, and Ethan was about to hang up when they spoke again, “Look Nakamura, I have to know: Did you give Luke Castellan the Kronos drug?”

Ethan blood ran so cold he had trouble turning the wheel to the curve of the road. “Luke Castellan you say? He’s that hot-shot CEO son of Hermes Enterprises right?”

“Yes.”

Ethan changed lanes again, and pulled to a stop at a red light next to a red 2006 Saturn that was blaring hip hop. He hummed quietly to himself remembering again why he did what he did last night. Why he left the club and why he had really been up all night. Why he was offended that the voice even suggested he'd give out Kronos, and why he always drove himself around now. The phone in his hand chirped delightedly with his girlfriend’s text of “bring milk”. The light turned green and Ethan floored his stolen, old truck so he could jump in front the Saturn beside him and change directions to the grocery store.

“No.” Ethan said finally, truthfully, to the disembodied voice on the line. Then he snapped his phone closed and tossed it out his window without a look back.

***

_“Oh sorry!” A girl squealed when she bumped into him. The cups nearly slipped from his hands but the girl was fast. She held caught them clasping their fingers together. She looked up at him a devil in her smile, “Not bad.” she said and then she was gone. Luke brushed it off. He found Thalia dancing at their table in a way that should have been illegal._

_God, what about Thalia wasn’t illegal?_

_“Refill!” Luke blew in her ear. She turned to fast she almost knocked the drinked on the floor._

_“Damn you!” She laughed. “Who was she?”_

_“No clue. Drink up, you Heathen.”_

_She flicked the cup up, “I prefer the term “bastard”. We’re fucking tonight by the way.” She dipped her fingers in the remains of her drink and sprayed it up at him._

_“I don’t know Thals…” He leaned next to her, letting her black bangs tickle his nose, “You sure?”_

_“You’re not?” She teased herself closer tongue slipping between her teeth._ _  
_ _“Well,” Luke clinked plastic cups with her and they both took gulps. It burned, but his taste buds were as far gone as his sanity, “Maybe if you dressed up in one of those cute maid outfits…”_

 _  
_ _“Over my dead body.” She sneered. And there in the flash of blue and she looked like a goddess. Luke smiled and pulled her close, hands on her hips and warmth in his chest. He wanted her. He needed her. Thalia said something, a murmur, a laugh something._

***

Zoe walked in right as Nico started curse cursing. It was in rapid Italian but Zoe was educated enough to pick out only the best words. Beside him Will Solace was grimacing.

”That Motherfucker!” Nico spit as if the world had personally offended him. He picked up his coffee-- surely cold by now-- and through it across the maze of cubicles.

“What's going on?” Zoe demanded.

Will gave her a tired look as if it had been years since they had seen each other and not a couple hours.  “We traced the address Nakamura gave us.”

”No dice?” Zoe guessed without guessing. Nico punched the back of his chair.

”I'm just a medic,” Will said with a sad gaze,  “but it doesn't take a detective to realize this Ethan guy is a jackass.”

”Where'd it lead?”

”Westmore Cemetery,” Nico spit. “He did it on purpose! IT'S _HER_ GRAVE!”

Nico sent his fist through the flimsy half wall separating their desks. He glared at the picture of Ethan Nakamura on the screen reserved for their team. Then he grabbed his discarded jacket and raced for the door.

”Where are you going?” Zoe demanded.

Nico flattered her with a single look back. “I'm going to find him,” He promised, “Then I'm going to put a bullet in his brain.”

Zoe glanced back at Will, who frowned, “Um, I’m sure he means verbally.” The medic tried, “A verbal bullet. Not a real one. Maybe.” He huffed, “He checked out the Bartender of that night and she came back clean. Didn’t even know what meth was, poor thing.”

“Or just a really good actress. How’s our BOLO?” Zoe asked him. Will strolled over to Nico’s desk checking the computer, with a couple clicks of the mouse.

“Nothing yet.” He said, “Ethan’s car was still in the lot, so we assumed he stole another vehicle, and the next door tenet’s confirmed his truck had just gone missing when he ran up to his room for a moment. We found it,” Will sighed, “Discarded off road completely wiped of fingerprints. This guy knows what he’s doing.”

“Of course he does.” Zoe scowled, “He’s been doing this his entire life.” She gathered herself and pivoted on her toe, and headed directly back to the interrogation rooms.

***

“Have you ever heard of an Ethan Nakamura?”

Luke peered up from his hands. He looked like he had spent the past several hours tearing himself apart. His eyes were red, his wrists raw from where he had tugged the cuffs. His hair was yanked and tussled and molded to the grip of his shaky hands. He was still in those god awful clothes that brought smells of Thalia into his constricted lungs. He hated that he could bring himself to rip the shirt to shreds.

It was the only thing he had left of her.

Oh god.

If he could go back in time...if he could protect her like he promised...if he had never met her would this have happened? Would she still have been alive? It was his fault she was dead.

Her blood was all over his hands.

He looked up at the cop woman-- Zoe? The information popped into his head from some memory that felt as distant as last night did. She was waiting for him to respond, patiently impatient.

“Who?” Luke croaked.

She flipped out a picture. Luke stared at the scowling face of some high schooler. He had hair _blacker than night, and tussled more than just a little bit. He wore a vest with purple top that matched the glow of his sneakers. his skinny jeans were ripped at the knees and a silver chain looped from his from pocket the the back. “I don’t sell to girls.”_

Luke flicked his eyes back up to her, “He was at HalfBlood last night.”

“I need an approximate time. If he sold you the Kronos--”

“I didn’t buy any of your drug, okay!” Luke snapped back, “I didn’t take any drug! I’ve never met this guy in my life, I just remember him talking to some girl!”

Zoe glared at him as if she could intimidate him into admitting he took a drug that he didn’t take. “What time?”

Luke inhaled deeply, clenching his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Then he thought back-- the club didn’t have any clocks inside. Time wasn’t really a thing on Friday nights, it could have been ten or it could have been two thirty. There weren’t any windows; just flashing lights and moving bodies. Then suddenly--

_“I fucking love this place!” The guy at the counter raged into full on laughter. He raised an arm, in a fist revealing a gold watch that would probably be stolen before the night was over._

“Eleven forty eight.” Luke exhaled. He opened his eyes blinking as he readjusted to the blink light of the room. Zoe was watching him with a frown, not a scowl, as if she was confused. “Give or take two minutes.”

“How do you know?”

Luke glanced down at the picture again. “I saw him then I ran into someone wearing a watch about maybe two minutes later. I didn’t see him again afterwards.” As an afterthought, he added, “He was with a girl.”

Zoe pulled out a pen, “Describe her.”

Luke hesitated, flipping through his alcohol hazed memories until he found the right memory. In the past he likened it to flipping through a photo album, in the dark, and every picture comes with a bit of sound and movement.

 _“Like in Harry Potter.”_ Thalia had chortled when he tried to explain. Luke flinched at that memory sternly redirecting his thoughts away from her.

“Purple dress, auburn hair. Her makeup was smeared, and she was drunk. Her eyes were… brown I think. The lights were flashing… but shorter than me possibly five-seven?” Luke gripped his hair again, “I only got a glance…”

“A glance,” Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Sounds like more than a glance to me.”

He let out a wet sigh, “Eidetic memory.” He motioned to his temple with a finger gun. “Everything is always stored up here. Every little detail until I fucking kissed her.”

He heard the agent shift her weight around, but Luke wasn’t sure he cared. He knew what he had been missing now: he had killed his girlfriend. WIth his own two hands. Everything was in pieces after he had kissed her. Her tears, a second of a scream, her scream, then stickiness, on the ground. Medics, the police...everything was in shattered bits. Someone had threw his photographic memories into a shredder before they had developed and now he only had pieces of pieces that somehow fit to form a monster like him.

“Are you telling me you don’t remember killing Thalia Grace or attacking Travis Stoll?”

Luke froze, “Travis?” He repeated, “I...hurt Travis?” The words clotted in his chest, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He had broken another promise-- to Travis. His half brother-- oh god he couldn’t… he wouldn’t have--

_“LUKE!” Travis yelled. “Luke! Stop! Luk--Agh!”_

Pleasemakeitgoawayhedidn’twantthisnightmareheneeded to wake up WAKE UP

Then Zoe was by his side, forcing his head into a box, no it was a trashcan. Luke wasn’t sure how many times he threw up. At least twice. Maybe three. His head was light and he felt like every breathe was going to bring another burning sensation of half digested liquids. He hadn’t eaten anything real that night, not since they stopped for fries and ice cream before hitting the nightclub. He spat again into the trashcan.

He couldn’t even remember the corpse. Thalia who had trusted him, whom he had promised to protect at all costs. In the end it was him who had ended her life? In the mess of shredded memories, the one he couldn’t find was her body.

He didn’t know if he wanted to remember.

Zoe released the pressure on his head. She wasn’t looking at him. She stared at the glass panel as if she was looking at someone directly. Luke couldn’t see anything past his own reflection.

Then she turned back at him and fished something from her pockets. Luke watched as she unlocked his handcuffs, wondering if he had gotten alcohol poisoning after all. She pulled him to his feet. “Come.” She commanded and lead him out of the room.

“This is not a good idea.” A voice called to them. In the hall a lone boy stood, maybe two years younger than Luke, with blonde hair and blue eyes with a splash of freckles that would make anyone swoon. “Zoe you can’t just--”

“Watch me.” She shoved Luke at him. Luke barely managed to steady himself before they both crashed on the ground. “Solace, give him a full medical examination. Get him something to eat and get rid of his fucking hangover. I’m going to talk to the director.”

“I can’t!” The medic tried, “You don’t just-- it’s a hangover!”

Zoe kept walking like she hadn’t heard him speak at all. Solace glanced at Luke, giving him an awkward smile. Luke wasn’t sure how anyone could smile at him knowing that he had killed someone and and attacked another less than twelve hours before.

“Uh... I might have some fresh clothes in the medic bay then.” He said, “Come on.”

“Where...What is she doing?” Luke swayed on his feet.

“Nightshade?” The medic said, “She’s going to talk the director into using you as an asset.”

“An asset?”

“She’s going to put you to work in order to find who drugged you.” He said with patience that only came from working with too many drunkards in a lifetime, “Come on, Medic bay’s this way.”

Luke let him lead and tried to keep the throbbing in his head at bay. It didn’t feel like a normal hangover.

“This Ethan guy?” Luke asked. From the high school picture on the table Luke would never have pegged the guy as someone who dealt drugs. Okay maybe he would, but definitely not someone who would deal with murders. He wasn’t just some druggie seller. There was something about him that screamed: _Look Again!_

“Or someone else.” Solace said. “Kronos is a nasty drug. It rewires the brain entirely. The last case, the victim committed suicide by driving off a bridge. Whoever is making this needs to be stopped.”

Luke nodded absently. He let the Medic lead him wherever. There was a spark of feeling in his chest, a hope that seemed to blossom with every step. He had been drugged, with a drug that killed people. He couldn’t protect Thalia from himself….but maybe, just maybe he could get revenge for her.

She always said it wasn’t a party until someone was arrested. He had to wonder if she would be rooting for him or against him. Or if she would even care at all.

***

_Luke had an eidetic memory. He could riddle off anything from anywhere. He liked to call it a gift. Even when he was drunk and overwhelmed in the sheer greatness of his half brothers parties. If it was important, he could recall it in an instant._

_  
_ _Luke couldn’t remember what happened after he kissed Thalia._

  
_The next thing he knew he was on the ground being handcuffed and he was covered in her blood._


	2. The Red Herring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After what happened two years ago, Ethan deserves a little love.

_ There were days when he wished he was dead. Then there were days like this: where the sweltering heat of human contact was the fires from hell, skins-- all types of it-- were outlined in the gray haze of alcohol and drugs and movement was such a blur anyone could have died and their bodies still would’ve kept hopped with the music because what else did one do at a club? _

_  
_ _It made Ethan sick just looking at it all. It made him feel dead inside, not just wish for it._

 __  
_He didn’t like Nightclubs, much less something as reckless and underground as Magic Touch. (God Ethan was going to kill whoever made that name)_ _  
_ __The night was thorough: his bundle of ‘pay back” bills was stashed in his vest pocket, his hands had procured another drink to help with the mind numbing boredness that came with being the one with the highest alcohol tolerance. His mother liked to brag about that-- He could smile and charm and scam even after seven drinks. Somehow Ethan had never considered it a good thing.

 _  
_ _Yet here he was scamming and charming arrogant little fucks from all their money and dealing out more powders and pills than a hospital doctor. He hated his life most of the time._

_ “He did it,” A voice before him said. Ethan let his eyes meet the bartenders, her lips glowing blue in the darklight. The bartender, a girl smart as she was fast, named Katie, looked caught between angry and helpless as most did when they watched tragedies unfold and couldn’t do a thing to stop them.  _

_ Ethan barely had to turn around. _

_  
_ _His razor sharp eyes caught an uncoordinated exchange halfway across the room. In the lights of the dance pit he watched the same jackass he had been scowling the night at do the one thing he told him not to do. He could see the ginger haired girl mouth out gratitude to the man in front of her a smile across both their faces. Ethan wished he was trashed, because it would give him an excuse not to deal with this shit at this hour of the night-- again._

_ A figure moved in front of him, blocking his view for a moment. Ethan glanced up at a girl he recognized from other clubs but never had talked to. She was wealthy, Ethan knew that. Her hair was always styled a different way and clothes immaculate in a fresh, store bought way. She smiled at him, and he was mildly surprised that she didn’t seem as drunk as anyone else. Then again she could also have just had a high tolerance for liver killing. _

_ “Can I have whatever he was having?” She pointed at his cup which was still half full of tasteless liquid.  _

_ “Have the rest of mine.” Ethan faked a lazy smile. She raised an eyebrow at him but in the shadow of her green hat her expression was lost on him. Ethan didn’t wait for her to make a decision. He got up from his stool and readjusted his vest. _

_“Have fun!” Katie shouted at him. Ethan shrugged off his discomfort like shedding his skin. She had been the first person in a long time to remember him,, to understand what he did, to see the full picture. The sign on the wall said drug dealers were welcome, but that didn’t mean Ethan was okay with it._ __  
_Even he had morals._ _  
_ __They involved not drugging girls to high heaven before taking them not-to-their home.

_ He shoved aside a guy making kissy faces at his friends, almost sending him toppling over into a plastic table. They might have yelled dirty things at his back but Ethan wasn’t one to really care. The Music had long since grated his ears to mindless fuckery. Did people actually enjoy hearing loss? He didn’t deal with hearing loss problems. He pushed through the crowd, hurried but not too hurried. After all it wasn’t that the drugs could kick in immediately. He could spare a couple minutes to mind his jacket and keep it as discoloration free as it got. It was hard for a guy to find a purple shirt like the one he had on. _

_ The guy’s name is Michael Yew. Ethan only knew that because the man proclaimed it to the world, as he stood on a table that was meant for drinks and displayed pretty little baggies with price tags. His eyes were red, with colored contacts maybe. They hid his dilated pupils in a mask but he wasn’t fool Ethan. He wanted to know how much of his own stash Michael had used before the party, but didn’t care enough to find out. _

_ Michael was short, shorter than Ethan, but built in a way that suggest this was not his only night job. Ethan would have guessed at him being an undercover cop if it wasn’t for the scars that peeked through his ripped neckline, crisscrossed to high Hell. No, drug dealing was not Michael Yew’s favorite past time. That was reserved for street fighting, which would explain why the idiot and him had never crossed paths before. _

_ And why Michael would dare sell anything in a location Ethan already had stakes in. _

_ Ethan hated everything. _

_ “Hey, it’s my homeboy!” An arm found its way around Ethan’s shoulders, curving much like a snake until it wrapped his body and pulled him in close. Ethan sighed. The only thing worse than Michael messing around with crystal meth was Alabaster Torrington pretending to be his friend.  _

_ “Got any new products for me, my home dog?” Alabaster persisted with a slur that was completely different from his normal proper speech. He was as high class as they come, but he knew his babysitter watched his pay flow. And more importantly Ethan watched Dr. Claymore watching the play flow. If Alabaster was caught, Ethan knew he’d be sold out for less than five minutes in the time out corner of Torrington Mansion.  _

_ “You got yours tonight,” Ethan reminded him coldly.  _

_ Alabaster smiled easily charming. “Sure I did.” He pumped his head fast in the direction of a girl that looked like she wanted to kill them both. “But my half sister Lamia, Nakamura. She’s the one who’s been asking. Now I know you don’t--” _

_ Ethan forced out of his half hug, “Then don’t ask, fucktard. I don’t lift rules for anyone.” _

_ Alabaster rolled his eyes, drowning himself in his alcohol as if he no longer cared. Ethan rolled his eyes. _

_ “She was gonna pay double for it!” The rich kid yelled. Ethan flicked him off and let his words die in the chaos of  the dancers. _

_ A girl in high heels flopped to the ground in front of him, another woman laughing at her and swinging her own heels over head. The lights soaked the room in green and blue. The DJ yelled something about hitting it up and the crowd as one took a series of boppings and hoppings and generally looked like idiots. Ethan used both his hands to grab a cool metal railing and heft himself up the layer. It wasn’t prodecal but no one was stopping him. He hooked a foot over the bar and bumped a table of pillaged purses and jackets. The boy passed out on the slick surface didn’t even budge. _

_ Michael Yew was still where he had been, scarcely moving except to get closer to the girl he sold to. If she noticed she didn’t show it. Michael was leering so much now, the only way he could get more was to take her right then. She swayed, her smile filled with about as much confusion as amusement as her own loss of coordination. Up close Ethan could make out more details of the brainless barbie Michael had picked up. She was a ginger, with a splattering of green hair and matching lipstick that was worn with sips from many glass shot cups. She wore a tank top with half a shirt thrown over her shoulder with a wide V-neck to make her shoulders glow. She was a picking alright. Young enough for this to be her first club, stupid enough to have lost her friends to the music and drinks.  _

_ Michael offered her a smile and she laughed at a touch that tugged at her curls. It was light, a ghosting, a  taste to see how she would react. Ethan watched, hands stiff on the metal bar he hovered on. He could break them apart now, Michael might swing at him, call him names. The thing about people on drugs is they saw a world entirely different than everyone else. _

_ It was the same as showing ten different people a Where’s Waldo picture for twenty seconds. Each person saw and remembered something different-- and none of them ever saw Waldo. Ethan could go up and break them up and Michael might swing, but at the same time Miss Mysterious might want this. Ethan hated people on drugs. They got their morals all mixed.  _

_ Maybe that’s why he never took any. _

_ The girl said something with an elaborate twist of her hand. She stepped back… and fell. Michael was quick catcher her by the waist helper her up like he was all pure intentions. Ethan watched his hands; they were slipping, and fast. The girl was noticing. _

_ She jerked back, a head shake in a messy but obvious “no”. Ethan stepped down off the bars. She stumbled again, dizzy now, weighed by her own panic. With the heavy throb of the music everyone seemed to miss her yell as Michael grabbed at her again. _

_ Ethan latched onto Michael’s bare arm, and yanked it back. It was reaction to stand between the predator and his prey. It’s all Ethan had ever known how to do.  _

_ “Nakamura,” Michael’s face split into a grin that didn’t flatter him. “You’re in my way.” _

_ “And you’re a retarded shit.” Ethan replied with little to no expression. “Are we done stating the obvious?” He could see the girl’s feet shifting under his, but he didn’t dare remove his eyes from the form in front of him. Michael was a street fighter; he wasn’t one to be underestimated. _

_ “I don’t remember either one of us asking for your intervention.” Michael said, “Or are you just concerned about your competition.” _

_ “And there’s the delusions of grandeur. I wonder if that’s a side effect of the meth in your system or the tumor in your brain.” Ethan squeeze his arm painfully, “You are never going to be my competition, Yew. Don’t flatter yourself.” _

_ “You’re right! There is no competition, Nakamura. I’ve already won. Just ask Kayla here.” _

_ Kayla was on the ground now her face on the carpet and her shoulders weak. She was trembling as if scared but her expression was still a couple minutes behind. Her bluebell blue eyes struggling to focus on something, anything. _

_ Michael drove a punch to Ethan’s gut. _

_ As sudden as it came, Ethan barely had time to recover before Michael was pinning him in a choke hold. His forearm was like a tree trunk, thick and firm, and Ethan noticed all muscle. He gasped for air in a very unflattering way. Michael dropped his head in close until Ethan feel his lips ghosting by his ear and feel his sweltering smokey breath singe his cheek. _

_ “You’re pathetic, man.” Michael laughed, “They say you’re something special up here in the drug world! That you have connections to Hades and ‘em. Where’s your gang friends now, pussy?” He pressed harder until Ethan thought he was going to crush his windpipe. He spit out to keep from swallowing his tongue in his desperate gasping for air. _

_ Goddamnit he really hated his life. _

_ He went slack, his knees dropping immediately to the ground. Michael wasn’t expecting it-- Ethan was betting it all on that. A split second loosen on the hold and a breath of life meant two things: first, Ethan’s eyes focused on what he was doing, and second he had a knife. A really nice knife. _

_ He flicked his arm up and drove his switch blade into Michael’s arm, not particularly careful where. The guy was going to kill him, Ethan felt in in his grip, the intent was obvious and while Ethan hated his life, he wasn’t going to go out that easily. Not by some thug idiot and definitely not before Kayla got home. _

_ Michael howled in pain. A gay couple nearby stopped long enough to watch. One reached for his phone but Ethan caught his eye and shook his head. No calling the police; not while one third of the occupants are high and the others are drunk and the fight was young. Michael cursed his mother to hell. _

_ (Ethan was okay with that, mostly) _

_ Ethan spung the blade in his hand. “Crybaby,” he huffed, “It was barely a knick!” _

_ Okay he might have severed a nerve. Which was not a knick, and was actually a dangerous cut that could cost Michael his arm functions. _

_ “You fucker!” Michael swore, “The Police’ll--” _

_ “What would you tell them, Yew?” Ethan challenged, his breath was short, and painful, but he pretended not to care, “You were going to rape her. I defended her. Do you know how many years in prison it is for criminal sexual conduct intent? I don’t! And doing it while high?” He whistled, which morphed his face into a wolfish grin. “And selling illegal substances too?” _

_ “I’ll take you down with me!” _

_ Ethan shrugged, “Hades will bail me out. Of course, I guess that’s only if you believe the rumors. I could just as easily say I was out having a fun night. Afterall, I’m not the one who jumped on a table to exclaim I was selling things. And I know a couple of people who would vouch for me.” _

_ Michael told him where he could shove his knife.  _

_ “Real creative.” Ethan snickered, “Run along now, Yew. There’s still time to get more wasted. Or to the hospital. Whatever your fancy.” _

_ He gripped his arm seething at the other man. Ethan waited until he was back on his feet before lunging forward and catching him against the wall. Michael swallowed a scream, his fear suddenly on his face as Ethan steadied the knife to his throat, until any movement at all would break his skin. In the gleam of the blade Ethan could see a smile that wasn’t his on his face. _

_ “And if I see you…” Ethan licked his words savoring the fear that rolled off the jackass in front of him, “If I see you sell another thing, even a snow globe, to a lady, in one of my clubs--” _

_ “I--I won’t!” Michael swallowed very, very carefully, “I-- uh-- swear!” _

_ “I’ll kill you, Michael Yew.” Ethan promised, “And leave your body to swim with the fish under Westmore Bridge.” _

_ His eyes were wide and a sweat of fear dripped off his black hair. “I won’t! I swear it!” _

_ Ethan glared at him a little longer. “I don’t believe you.” _

_ He looked frantic, panicked as he counted the number of ways Ethan could kill him with a knife in this position. Ethan had ten so far; he wondered if Michael got that high.  _

_ “I’m going to be watching you, Yew,” Ethan whispered, “And the next time someone is stupid enough to ask you for drugs, you point them my way first and I get to decide if they get to inhale or inject.” _

_ Michael nodded, scraping the first layers off his sensitive throat he was shaking far too much to truly notice any of if. Ethan let him go. Michael ran towards the dance pit like Satan was on his heels. Kayla was on the ground, untouched, unnoticed, but conscious still. _

_ She stared at him, “Who...are you?” She asked weakly. _

_ “Where are your friends?” Ethan carefully knelt next to her, wiping the blood on his jeans. _

_ She shook her head as if that was a viable answer. Ethan huffed. He hated his life. _

_ “I’m going to help you up, got it?” He said carefully enunciating each of his words. He didn’t wait for her confirmation, mainly because he knew whatever concoction she had been given, whatever god-awful thing Michael thought he had been entitled too, was started to kick in faster. In a minute or two it would be washed away in her blood, pumped to every limb and muscle and thought until she lost herself in the calm serenity of unconsciousness. _

_ Ethan wrestled to get her in a sitting position. She feel hot, too hot. Ethan hated skin on skin contact. He tried to make his touches light; he knew what rough touches were like, especially from the unknown and unremembered. And if everything went right, Ethan would be completely unremembered in the morning. _

_ Kayla leaned into him as he picked her up bridal style. Her green hair tickled his chin. She was dead weight in his arms, a corpse that breathed white hot air at his neck. _

_ “Address.” Ethan asked in her ear. She replied but Ethan lost it in the scream of the music. A cheer had gone up in the crowd, and a new beat had hit the floor like a fountain of youth spitting all the insects with a second life. They made the definition of Rejuvenation out of formless bodies and fragmented memories. _

_ Ethan carried her Kayla to the door, where the bouncer, a girl hung at the doors with a cigarette in her mouth and a phone in her hands. She flicked him a look when he shoved the metal doors with his hip. _

_ “Another one?” Lou Ellen asked, she hissed out a bit of smoke, and kicked herself off the wall, “I knew when Michael came charging out--” _

_ “Where’s Cecil?” Ethan cut off her small talk. She might approve of him, of his style, but Ethan did not consider her anymore a friend than he considered Katie one. Both of the girls unnerved him. Lou Ellen however was aware of how much she unnerved him. _

_ With a coy smile she ran a thumb towards a car stalling by the road. It wasn’t anything amazing by the look, which was how Cecil like to roll. He had a different car each week, an assortment of colors, an assortment of styles, brands, frames, even the decals he changed. He was reading a Manga in the front seat of the car, feet on the dash and two empty coffee cups in the the cup holders. Ethan kicked the side door and he cursed dropping his page. _

_ “Son of a Bitch, Ethan! Could you warn a guy?” He hollered as he opened the door only to stop short at the sight of Kayla, “Are you kidding? Another? I just dropped what’s-her-face off! And before that, there was that guy--” _

_ Ethan ignored him and buckled Kayla into the backseat. “Just get her home, Cecil.” Ethan told the other boy. Cecil saluted him. _

_ “W-wait…” Kayla mumbled. Her thick fingers caught the edge of his shirt as he pulled away. Her eyebrows scrunched in sleepy confusion, “Why?” _

_ Ethan rolled his eyes, “Because people are generally jackasses.” He yanked away as if her touch was burning him. He closed the door and Cecil grinned from the driver’s seat.  _

_ “Some advice, Ethan, my dude,” Cecil told him and although the last thing Ethan wanted was advice from a high school dropout he paused to listen, “Call it a night. You’ll drive yourself crazy before you save every psycho in this club.” _

_ Ethan waved him off, plucking a box from the dashboard shelf. Cecil didn’t stop him, but merely rolled his eyes. “Those costed me my lungs man.” _

_ Ethan slipped one out silently and put the box in his pocket. “ You take care of her, I’ll worry about my health, Markowitz.” He waved his unlit cigarette at him, “Good night.” _

_ He turned away pretending not to hear Cecil call after him with complaints. He met Lou Ellen’s eyes from across the street, nodded to her, and headed down the road. Cecil’s car came to life and headed in the opposite direction, to wherever Kayla lived, and then right back to here, lingering until Lou Ellen’s shift was over and they were off to wherever. It was a routine built on a trust in Cecil, who despite being a blockhead ninety seven percent of the time, Ethan trusted with his valueless life.  _

_ “Yo, Nakamura!!” Lou Ellen called, she glanced around quickly as if she was delivering sacred news. “There's a girl, she was looking for you. I sent her away but she looks like trouble.” She flipped her bangs and let the white street lights color her in makeshift shadows, “Well, more trouble than even me.” _

_ Ah, great. Just what Ethan wanted. More trouble for tonight. Knowing his luck it was most likely an undercover cop. _

_ Ethan yawned and fished around his pockets for a lighter. It was a cheap one with the good old Seven-Eleven brand stamped on, but it worked so he kept it handy. He tasted the nicotine on his tongue before the Magic Touch had let him out of sight.  _

_ The night was far from quiet. The city let the beatbox of back alleys, and the rumble of the metro and car horn honks echo every hour of the day. People lived for the night, or in the night, There was always seven restaurants and a bar open at a time. It was amazing that anyone ever actually went home with the number of things to do in a city like this. A number of ways to wake up tomorrow several hundred dollars poorer. And that was only if you woke up. _

_ Ethan was all too aware of the black car as it slid up the curb in front of him. The license plate was new and the car was fresh like a pool of ink against the neon street lights. A car behind them honked but pulled around. Other passerby merely glanced and shook it off. If it wasn’t there for them then it wasn’t worth getting into trouble with. _

_ Ethan hated that he couldn’t walk around it. He let his cigarette burn, through whistling gray smoke into his equally grey looking future. He didn’t run; he had the feeling there was no way out of this confrontation. If it was the police he would only look more sketchy than before. _

_ The back window rolled down and a seemingly familiar voice beckoned him forward. “Get in.” _

_ Ethan pursed his lips considering it. “It’s been a long night--” _

_ “Get in the car.” The voice said again. _

_ Ethan sighed reached for the door handle. It wasn’t like he treasured his existence anyway. Whoever it was could kill him and his ghost probably wouldn’t even care. Were there more excited things to do in Hell? _

_ The inside of the car was a neutral color, with the scent of vanilla and lemon. Ethan wasn’t one for perfumes but he knew when an expensive one was being used. This one was made of compressed hundred dollar bills. The inside was small but roomy. Enough space for four people all facing each other. There was a singular figure sitting, waiting patiently for him to sit down. There were no seatbelts. _

_ Ethan heaved a sigh and sat down. The girl before him was pretty, even he could admit that. He knew he had seen her somewhere before, probably even earlier tonight but he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment. He looked at her and his barely smoked cigarette before flicking the rod on the ground behind him and closing the car door. She smiled, revealing dimples that made her freckles glow. _

_ Ethan hated his life. _

_ “Thank you,” she said, her tone much warmer than before, “I’m not a fan of smoking.” _

_ Ethan didn’t respond. She was wearing a night going outfit: jeggings with ripped thighs and a purple tank top with her hair done in a long braid. Her shoes were new and a right-off-the-line style if Ethan ever saw one. Her arms were bare, with the sparkle of glitter that caught his eyes when he moved slightly. But what he truly noticed was the green hat that rested on her head like a halo of shamrock. _

_ This was the same girl that he gave his drink to back at the bar, before he dealt with Michael.  _

_ The car gave a lurch and Ethan felt the tires flop back off the curb and roll straight back into traffic as if they had never stopped at all. He should have started counting the blocks or the corners, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the figure before him. She was dangerous, somehow, like the shiny gleam of an unused knife. The girl shifted her weight slightly, refolding her legs in a smooth  fluid motion that should not have caught his attention so quickly. She twisted a strand of her hair back behind her ear and let out a quiet sigh. _

_ Ethan really hated his life. _

_ “I must admit,” she said, “I was expecting a bit more rebuttal.” _

_ “If you want, you drop me here and we can try it again. Can't have you disappointed.” Ethan rested his arm on the door leaning his head in his palm. “Are you going to reimburse me for my cigarette?” _

_ “Depends,” She leaned forward, “Are you really part of Hades?” _

_ Ethan paused though he didn't mean to. The question was really the last he expected, and it wasn't often  that he was surprised. “What does that have to do with my cigarette?”  _

_ “What if I told you I know a new drug?” She leaned forward staring into his eyes as if she could see his soul. (Ethan wasn't worried; she wouldn't see anything). “It's brand new and highly addictive. It will make you a millionaire overnight. There are some things I don’t want Hades to be in on. Would you be in?” _

_ Ethan narrowed his eyes, “What's in it for you?” If there was ever a question he had never forgotten, it was the first one his mother had taught him. Someone always wants something.  _

_ “A lot of money.” She fiddled with a stray string on the seat. “I want twenty percent, since you know I'm supplying it.” _

_ Ethan tapped his thigh. Twenty was a high split; he had turned down people for less. But in any case, that wasn't an issue. _

_ He looked at the woman in front of him. She was young, his age if not younger. He wondered if she would have approached Michael with the offer first if Ethan hadn't sent him running with his tail between his legs.  _

_ “What are the side effects?” _

_ She raised an eyebrow, “Do they matter?” _

_ Ah, Yes. Young and powerful. Ethan pulled out the wad of cash he earned in the night. He hadn't bothered to count it but it was thick and crisp. Ethan made it a habit to tell alcoholics when they underpaid for goods but most never noticed when they overpaid. Ethan let more than guy walk away while pocketing two hundred dollar bills. He tossed them into her lap. _

_ “We have a deal?” She asked, “What are you--?” _

_ Ethan didn't waste time flipping seats until he was right next to her, his knees burned from touching their open skin even for just a split second. Ethan had his blade out almost before he moved, his breath was cool and even, controlled as much as he was in this situation. They were inches apart but only has blade kissed her smooth neck, right above a yin yang pendant. _

_ “Here's your deal, Princess,” He gave her a dark, humorless grin, “You take your wanna-be drug and you keep it the fuck out of my city. Take your money and go before I get angry.” _

_ She didn't move merely breaking into a mirror smile, “Oh? What will you do, Ethan Nakamura? Kill me?” She laughed, “I don't think you have it in you.” _

_ “I don't have to kill you.” Ethan whispered. He let his eyes wander in a syrupy slow motion. “I mean, there are worse things….and who's going to stop me?” _

_ She went stone statue still. Her eyes were wide, revealing large, brown, vulnerable irises. Their faces were almost brushing, the brim of her hat was lifted over his head. They were still letting tree rock of the car move them, the driver unaware of what business was actually going on. _

_ Then she smiled.  A real comfortable smile of relief and happiness. It stretched across her face breaking in her dimples and showering her eyes in warm stars. Her laugh left Ethan breathless.  _

_ Sometimes he really hated his life.  _

_ “Oh you are good!” She laughed, leaning closer to him. Ethan in the midst of his surprise retracted the blade slightly. Her laugh was something wicked, a magic or a drug inside itself. _

_ “I believed you there for a moment!” She watched him with admiring eyes. Ethan wanted her to stop, to look away. There was nothing here worth admiring. “Okay, real question then! Are you part of the Hades gang?” _

_ “Who the fuck are you?” Ethan growled. _

_ “I asked first!” _

_ Ethan stared at her. His irritation was sitting thick in his head, swirling and gaining speed in the mess that was his sleep deprived state. He wished he was anywhere but in this car, with this girl, who made him feel so irritated.  _

_ “No.” He snapped, “I’m not part of the fucking gang! Now who the hell are you?!” _

_ Her eyes went wide as if she was now surprised. Her breath was warm on his face. She looked so vulnerable, and Ethan found himself hating his life more than usual for this time of night. _

_ Her silence let them ride for a full block as he impatiently twisted his knife in his hand. She wasn’t afraid of his knife like others were. It was an illusion of pain that she had already felt, much like Ethan had before. She knew the slices, the way the sharp edge picketed at skin, how it drank blood slowly, slowly, then all at once, how it felt to rip it out of a borrowed hole and scream in pain when the cold and hot fused in agony.  _

_ “Bianca.” She said, quiet but firm, “My name is Bianca Di Angelo. I’m eighteen years old and I don’t supply drugs.” _

_ “If you don’t tell me what the Hell game you are playing right now, I’m going to toss one of us out of the moving car. And hint: It’s not going to be me.” _

_ “That drug that I mentioned? It’s real. The side effects are brief episodes of insanity, murderous intentions, increased adrenalin flow and most commonly death.” She started talking slow and pointedly as if she was holding back information only for the fact that she couldn’t break it to him all at once. A controlled river of words that was threatening to sweep them both away in it's dangerous currents. _

_ “I need…” She took a deep breath, “I need help. This drug is dangerous, and if it gets out a lot of people at going to be hurt. I can't let that happen. And from what I've seen and heard from you, you can't either.” _

_ Ethan stared at her, the movement of the car swayed them back and forth. Outside people were spilling from a night club oblivious to the black vehicle driving along the road. Ethan recognized the street; they were heading out of the city.  _

_ “Who are your sources?” _

_ Bianca grimaced, “Not fun people. They're solid believe me. They wouldn't have been killed otherwise.” _

_ Ethan sighed his fingers itching for a cigarette, or just something to do with them. He felt clamped up, tight and uncomfortable. Why did she come to him? Why not anyone else? _

_ “The police can't handle something like this. I mean they can't even take small drugs drug dealers like you and Michael. I would go to Hades but the rumor is that Hades cut a deal with the supplier of the drug. I need someone outside both influences.” Her eyes bore into him. “Someone who can't be bought or coerced or arrested.” _

_ Ethan pretended to be interested in what was going on outside the boxed windows. He ran his fingers along the handle of his blade to remind him of why he did what he did. _

_ “Ethan, will you please help me?” _

_ Ethan Nakamura hated a lot of things. He hated a lot of people, his mother at the top of the list and for years he had never hated anyone more than her. She had taught him many things like how to avoid the  police, how to build allies, and twist loyalties, how to look after himself and only himself. Lessons were hard, failure was brutal. It took years to reverse the effects on himself. Sometimes he hated remembering her more than he hated existing. _

_ But here was Bianca Di Angelo. She was asking for his help.  _

_ Asking him. _

_ It would have been easier to hate her if she had demanded his help, if she had threatened him or bribed him or God forbid seduced him. If she had sat there retaining that confident facade with an ugly smirk on her lips and an unflattering devil in her eyes. If she was telling him to take the drug and the money and to hurt people like he had been hurt. _

_ If she hadn't come to him at all. _

_ Most of the time Ethan hated everything. _

_ “Talos,” Bianca reached forward and knocked on the cab wall separating them from the driver, “Take us somewhere secluded please.” _

_ Then there were times Ethan only hated his flimsy little heart. _

_ **** _

Ethan stood on the balcony of the apartment staring at nothing. His cigarette burned in one hand down to the filter but he had get yet to bring it to his mouth. He wanted to pretend the chill of the night was the reason he was so cold.

“Ethan?” a small and tired voice whispered from the doorway. He didn't  need to turn around to know she was standing there, looking fragile even though he knew by now she was anything but. She would have a gun  on her thigh and a knife on her waist hidden to everyone but each other.  Her slim body dressed in old thrift store clothes and her hair a glorious fountain of temptation. She stood like she was unsure if he wanted the company; her hand on the glass door holding it open but ready to close it the moment he shook his head.

Suddenly his second flip phone felt so much heavier in his grip.

“Lou called.” He told her, because he never kept secrets from her anymore. “Cecil…” He closed his eye, “He hasn’t come back to their apartment tonight…. He isn't...picking up his phone.”

Ethan leaned over the railing, dropping his cigarette into the midnight abyss. He pressed his forehead to the wooden railing, his breath rattling in his lungs. “He said he was cleaning out the apartment today. Getting ready to move his stuff to her place. I don’t...I’m…”

She didn't make a sound walking over, but Ethan didn't flinch when her hand found it’s way on his. Her touch was soft, a whisper, the only drug that had him aching for more. She led him away from the edge and into her arms like a sheep to slaughter.

“Come come back to bed, Ethan.” She whispered.

“I can't,” he mumbled, “I have to find him. I have to make sure he's okay.”

She didn't say anything. Ethan was grateful.  If she had asked again he would have followed her just like he had two years ago. Just like he had been doing ever since. 

“They're getting closer, you know.” She said, “Maybe it's time we go to them with what we have.”

Ethan snorted as he intertwined their fingers without a purpose. “They think that I am the one giving it out. That I drugged Luke Castellan. That I'm a monster that needs to be shot. Pretty soon they'll figure out I killed you too.”

A distant siren howled in the night. She sighed ideally,  and maybe a bit disbelieving too, “And here my dad was worried I'd fall for some average Joe who'd have a problem with gangs and murder. If he could see me now…”

“He'd kill me faster than your brother would.” Ethan rested his chin on her shoulder, if only to feel her laugh rising in her chest, “I'd rather die by my own hands please.”

She was warm still, Ethan noticed. She must have crawled right from under the covers, to find him out here. Though to be honest Ethan wasn't sure she got cold. Everything about her was always warm, protective, dare he say safe.

“Next week then.” She suggested, “We'll both go to the station--”

“No.” Ethan untangled himself from her, “You can't. After all this--!”

“They won't believe you without me.” she pointed out, “besides it's not like there's-”

“I'll find another way!” Ethan snapped, “I'm not...I won't let you get hurt again!”

She cocked her head to the side,  both annoyed and touched at the same time. He knew her well in the moonlight, every movement and every breath. The curve of her hips when she was mad, the tight shoulders when she was stressed, the grip of her arms when he was the only thing holding her sanity together.

“We aren't arguing this, Ethan.” She said, “We are in this together. Don't you see that? Since the crash, is been us together. I send you out every night, praying that you come back, that you text me, or call because if I lose you, I lose everything, Ethan.” She was shaking, her voice stopping her emotions in that frustrating way she had. “Believe me, I know the last two years have been hard. Trust doesn't come easy for me either remember? You are my sanity, my rock.”

Ethan hated that he couldn't talk the way she did. That he couldn't find words that expressed who he was and what he was like she did. She wore herself out day and night and still out put up with him. Ethan hated that he could live forever just hearing those words rattle off her lips.

“Also I kinda helped with this whole saving the world thing. I'm not letting you get all the credit.” 

Ethan scoffed looking back out at the haze of the city. “Fine,” he said. “Once we have credible evidence of where the stock is, we’ll go.” He breathed deeply, “We'll go.”

She clapped doing an immature happy dance that was inappropriate for the daughter of a mob boss to do. Ethan rolled his eyes, waiting to her to tire herself out.

“If they find out--” Ethan started, but Bianca lunged at him. He hadn't expected her, in the moment blinded by his frustration, his fear. He didn't see her eyes go wide as they focused on something past him, or her breath catch in her throat. 

He did feel the bullet as it broke through his skin, an explosion of heat and a shockwave of confusion, and Bianca Di Angelo screaming something or nothing at all.


	3. The Woman Trapped in the Clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe Nightshade is a Police officer with a mission.

Zoe Nightshade had gone after Ethan Nakamura before. Of course the circumstances had changed since then. For one she was no longer a fresh recruit looking to prove herself and second, back then Ethan hadn't personally offended her.

_ “It doesn't matter what the report says. There's always another way.” _

Zoe was wearing earmuffs that could have blocked out the end of the world. Her sunglasses were pressed up her nose and the world around her was a murky blur of things that didn't matter.

Here she was queen. Here she could think, plan, plot, and execute anything. It was all possible while she stood tall, arms bent, teeth grit, and eyes sharp. It didn't matter what had happened in the past. Here she still heard Artemis talk her out of her rages and corrected her posture.

_ “So he thinks he's smart. I'm smarter, remember? Keep your chin up Nightshade.” _

Zoe fired four shots rounding them off as if she had no time to waste.

_ “He slipped up.”  _ Artemis continued in her ear.  _ “The girlfriend. He mentioned the girlfriend.” _

“It was a dead end.” Zoe muttered she fired again this time aiming left of the chest, an arm shot that would hurt like a bitch but cause no permanent injury.

_ “It was a beginning, Nightshade. What do you remember about high school? College? What did everyone care about?” _

Zoe inhaled fast, clicking the safety back on her gun. She blinked in the sun. She knew Artemis was not standing behind her but it was hard not to imagine that she wasn't nodding approvingly at her. 

It was harder to imagine that she wasn't there because of Zoe herself.

She tore off her earmuffs launching herself off the firing stand. Her work sneakers were hardly work attire but she was running towards the office. Most likely no one would have the courage to bring it up to her.

“Zoe! Wait Nightshade!” a voice she knew well called after her. She motioned for the raven haired agent to catch up with her, but didn't slow her pace.

“What is it, Jackson?” she huffed, “I'm in the middle of something.”  
He readjusted his police cap and rolled his green eyes. Percy Jackson was still a new recruit, at least by Zoe’s standards, but he had already proven to be a valuable as even her in the field. She had little doubt that one day he might be running the police sanction himself. That, and only that, was the reason she didn't use him as target practice most days.  
“When at you not in the middle of something?” he asked without a hint of being rhetorical. He shook off his question walking alongside her, “Anyway I heard the Kronos case got reopened. I wanted to see if you were okay.”  
Zoe stopped short. Before she was even thinking about it, she had grabbed his collar and rammed him against the wall. He was winded, Zoe felt it in the way he didn't immediately shift into Fight Mode.   
“Never,” she snarled, “insinuate that I am not okay.”  
He coughed in reply. “Got...it…”  
“Good.”  
Zoe let him go and had the audacity to give her a small smile. He fixed his collar and tie. Zoe barred her teeth.  
“My next assignment is in San Francisco. Something about a gang war?” He laughed and rubbed his neck, “I don't know. I'm suppose to pick up a girl like right off the bat. Anyway I guess I won't be around for a bit.”  
“Fantastic,” Zoe started walking away again.

What did she care if there was one less agent walking around? She had her team. 

“Oh and one more thing,” he opened his jacket and pulled an envelope out of the inside pocket, “The Director asked me to deliver this, to you. Luke Castellan? Good luck with that.”

Zoe snatched the letter with vigour. She almost smiled. She now had a lead and a new resource. She would crush Ethan Nakamura, that drug dealing sadist, and his partners and his partners partners. Even if he had ties back to Hades, she wouldn't stop until he and every other goddamned dealer was behind bars.

_ “Zoe! Wait! They have--!” _

Then maybe Zoe would have the courage to see her again.

She left Percy in the hallway, like she left her earmuffs and the gunshots of her past. It took her all of five minutes to get to her floor, in the building across the street. Her keys jangled in her pocket as she strolled into the room. It was noon so half of the agents were out. Her desk was immaculate, with everything sorted and placed perfectly. She could see from where she was that no one had touched it; Everyone was too afraid to touch it.

Will Solace was doing paper work from a top Nico’s desk. His white lab coat hung down to his knees and his clipboard was filled with a stack of paper. He looked troubled, sitting alone in their cubical section, but the moment she walked in he brightened up.

“Sup Zoe?” He smiled, “Firing range?”

“Where's Castellan?”

Will ever unperturbed thumbed back to the extra desk he normally reserved for himself. He had his real one downstairs in the medical room but the word was he hated the quiet and loneliness so he always did his paperwork in a room filled with bustling people. He even had his phone reconnected up here. Since he rarely caused problems, Zoe had let it slide.

Luke was slumped in his chair, but even sleeping he looked like he had walked through Hell. His face was still pale and raw in places Will had to scrub the blood off of. The scar down his cheek would be ever the reminder of that night. He wore brand new clothes: jeans that might have been Will’s and a shirt that was definitely Nico’s. He sported an old lab coat from storage with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His forearms were hot red and raw, probably from two hours straight of his own physical torment trying to get rid of the blood under his nails, so much so that the black X’s were barely left on the back of his hands. In front of him were the photos of Ethan Nakamura’s bedroom and the parking lot; Zoe scowled at just seeing them. To think he made all that mess and she hadn’t heard a thing.

“Di Angelo back yet?” Zoe asked slamming her pistol on her polished desk.

“No ma’am.” Will said, “I can try reaching him on the phone again but he probably threw it in a trashcan or a fountain. Again.”

“Do it.” Zoe waved to Luke's form, “and wake him too.”

He grinned, throwing his clipboard on Nico’s desk without celebration. “We got a lead? What is it?” He picked up the desk phone dialing a number off the top of his head while simultaneously whisking a rubber band ball from the top left drawer. He tossed the ball at Luke and hummed happily to the ringing of the phone. 

Zoe decided she could ask later why he knew where everything in Di Angelo’s desk was.

Luke woke with a start, gasping for breath like he had been drowning before. He looked around wildly before his unnerving blue eyes settled on her with a miserable expression.

Zoe pretend that she hadn't seen that before, that it wasn't one she had noticed on her face in the mirror for many years, that sometimes the breaking of the mirror in the sanctions women's restroom was not the fault of that look in her reflection.

“The girlfriend.” Zoe said, she grabbed her laptop off her desk, “or more specifically the girlfriend's house.”

Will cocked his head to the side, “We tried that, remember? Led us too Bianca Di Angelo’s grave? Nico went on a rampage?”

“Who's Bianca Di Angelo?” Luke asked. He was all attention now, sitting up in the chair and arms folded neatly on Will’s desk.

“She was the daughter of a wealthy business man, Hades Di Angelo, who you might know, is suspected of having started the gang Hades. She died two years ago when her driver drove the car off Westmore bridge late one night.” Will said, hanging up the unanswered call, “The Police fished the car out of the water hours later, and we found the driver still seatbelted in, but Bianca was gone. Her jacket was still in the car, and the window was broken and the door open...We never found her body. We...uh.. think she managed to get out, but the undercurrents of the river caught her and dragged her across the rocky bottom until she drowned and her body is somewhere under the muck and trash.” Will swung his legs a little in thought, “It’s the reason Nico wanted to be a police officer so bad. Like he wanted to be one before, but after his sister’s death, I don’t think there’s a force on Earth that could have persuaded him otherwise.”

“In her driver was the first samples we got of the Kronos Drug,” Zoe said, bluntly just to watch Luke flinch, “We found Bianca’s hat in Ethan’s apartment. If Ethan Nakamura is connected to both these crimes there will be Hell to pay.” She scowled, “Which is why we are going to find his girlfriend’s real apartment, and drag his ass right back here to get my answers.”

“How are you going to do that without an address or a name?” Luke seemed to be interested now, much like a kid watching a line of ants crawl across the floor. Zoe wondered if she had sounded this stupid when she had been a new recruit. Did Artemis constantly feel like she had needed to be hit or was that just because Zoe hated the CEO’s son?

“He’s got a point on this one, Zoe.” Will said, “Do you know how many Angela’s are in this state? Assuming that is even her real name.”

“Idiots,” Zoe reveled in her verbal abuse, “Do you remember High School? How it was everyone’s business who was dating who?”

Luke and Will shared a look.

“I never paid attention.” Luke shrugged, “Dad would pull me out of school to go to Tokyo and Zimbabwe to see what being a CEO was all about. He wanted me to take over the company.” 

“I was homeschooled.” Will admitted.

Zoe rubbed her temples, “Alright well, that’s what it’s like. It’s Everyone’s business who was dating who, and how long until they broke up. We just need to find someone who likes to talk.”

Zoe opened up a tab on her computer, pressing the keys with the power of spite. Will had already moved to look over her shoulder and after a moment Luke realized that he was going to have to join them. She skipped through pages of witnesses on the online report of two nights ago. She could see Luke making faces as he caught pieces of what people he had known had said about him or about what happened that night. All in all he seemed to be taking it better than she thought he would. In the reflection of the screen she could see the resolve in his eyes, the fury and the untamed determination. 

He had decided to find Thalia Grace’s other murder. Zoe wondered if she was going to have to stop him from killing Ethan when they finally found him.

“Stop.” He said suddenly flinging his arm up at the screen.

Zoe scowled. “Don’t put your hand in my face.” She said batting it away. The page she was at was a girl’s, one Zoe vaguely remembered from the haze. The report had been done by a lower agent signed off by an agent higher than Zoe.

Luke stared at the page. “If you want information…” he said, “this...this is who you want.”

“This is like the worst report ever.” Will commented, “She doesn’t remember anything. Look here she is saying that you were making out with another girl right before the incident.” Will stole a look at him. “You weren’t, were you?”

“I wasn’t,” Luke confirmed sounded a hundred years older, “but that’s why you want her. She deals information, if you notice. We just have to give her something else in exchange.” 

Will frowned, “But what would a...Silena Beauregard want from us?”

Zoe closed the laptop, “Let’s go find out.

***

“Ethan Nakamura, you say?”

Silena was a thin woman, with a meek complexion but eyeliner that suggested she knew every way to get someone to talk. She smiled at Zoe as if they were friends, which they most surely were  _ not _ . “Sorry Officer, don’t know of him!”

“Impeding a police investigation is a federal crime, Miss Beauregard.” Zoe reminded the woman in front of her.

“Well so is hijacking a plane,” The other girl said, “I don’t see me doing that one either. I wish you luck in your investigation, but I don’t have the information you are looking for. May I go back to my date now?”

Zoe had patience, just not a lot of it. Artemis had scolded her about it many times. And after Artemis...well Zoe wasn’t one to forget her own mistakes. The case, this case was wearing her down, bit by bit. Somehow Silena had added to this weight more than anyone other than Ethan Nakamura himself. She was dressed in a way should have been illegal: a dress that seemed to be laminated to her body, hugging her curves from her breasts to her calves with cut outs around her hips and a deep v-neck. Her jewelry sparkled like an expensive vice. Zoe had a hard time looking at her.

She said everything with a polite smile, and a pleasant tone. Zoe wanted to rip her head off and see if she was truly made of happiness or she was pulling one over her.

Luke was leaning against the wall not far away. Silena had acknowledged him with a wave at first but having not received a name or a badge she seemed to forget he was there. Zoe had him there for purely observing duty; he had no need to interfere regardless of what happened. And if he snuck away while Zoe was in conversation, she made sure to show him every bone in his body that she would break when they caught him again.

He had nodded so fast, so terrified, that Will had trouble prying him off the chair. 

Said medic was waiting on the car with the music on and phone in case Nico called back. Zoe doubted he would. If he didn't check-in in the morning she was going to fire him, file a missing person's report, and kill him, not necessarily in that order. 

Silena shrugged helplessly in the face of their investigation. “I wish I could help, but I can't.”

Zoe snapped her notebook shut, fuming. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth, “Thank You for your time.” Artemis would have been proud. “Have a good date.”

She clapped hers hands with some sickening expression of gratitude. It was the first thing that sounded hollow coming of her lips like another layer of makeup. Zoe was sure it was just as international as it too. She turned back to Luke and motioned that they would be leaving.

He ignored her.

“Mrs. Beauregard,” he said, voice silky with diplomacy. “Did by chance…you know Thalia Grace?”

She stopped suddenly in the hall. The sounds of fancy glass clinking and expensive silverware on china plates sounded as if they were coming from another dimension. Silena was stock still, the dangerous form. The form that could lead to any manner of attack. Zoe’s hand drifted to her gun handle, though the last thing she wanted was to explain to the director why there were bullet holes in a Five Star Restaurant wall that’s tap water was above her pay grade.

“That’s a reckless thing for you to ask, Mr. Castellan.” Silena said, her voice cold. “Lot’s of people liked Thalia more than you.”

Luke nodded as if this explained a lot. Zoe analysed his stance, casual but nervous, and decided she would break his kneecap first when they got back to the car.

“Lying to us about Ethan’s whereabouts won’t avenge her.” Luke said. “She still dead.”

Silena whipped around with a bright grin on her face, “Oh yes, and who did that to her? I might have been drunk, but I am not blind.” Her eyes narrowed but the smile remained, more of a threat than a pleasantry.

“If you say that, than you must know that I never would have hurt her. You know that I loved her. That she was my world, and my soul, possibly just as much or even more than Charles Beckendorf is for you.” Silena retracted a step as if she had been punched. Luke swallowed hard, plowing ahead so fast he was tripping over his own words, “You know all that Silena. You were her friend, speed dial number three, despite the fact that the two of you hadn’t talked since Thalia walked out on your co-owned apartment. You know….” Luke took a long deep breath, “You know that I made her the promise you wouldn’t make with her.”

Silena dropped her smile. “You broke that promise.”

“I did,” He acknowledged, “And I didn’t. You see, I was drugged that night, Mrs. Beauregard.”

She stared at him, her furious blue eyes demanding to see the truth his his soul. Zoe waited with baited breath for one of them to break the contact. Forget breaking kneecaps; She was going to kill him when they got back to the car. He knew all this coming in here? He let her talk and ask stupid questions like a moron in front of the this aggravating woman?

“I wasn’t lying.” Silena snarled coldly, “I don’t know an Ethan Nakamura personally.” She readjusted her gaze to fall on Zoe with the same amount of hatred she might have for a cat that made a litter box out of her snakeskin prada purse. “I heard a while back that Michael Yew had some beef with him. Something about a stabbing. Yew hangs out at the Apollo’s Grin bar downtown on weeknights drinking away his sorrows.” She gathered herself together and turned back around, “I wish you luck catching him, Miss Nightshade. Second time's a charm right?”

She was smirking, Zoe was sure but she was already stalking towards the dinning room again, magnificently balanced in her black high heels. Luke exhaled like he was dropping the weight of the world off his shoulders.

“You’ve gone after Ethan before?” he asked.

“If you cherish your tongue, I would not speak another word.” Zoe told him. She pulled out her phone making a beeline for the exit doors. “Will, it’s me. Start the car.”

***

“Okay, what did you do that made her so pissed?” Will asked Luke in a low voice as if Zoe would hear from right in front of them. The CEO’s son for his part, remained silent. Zoe kept her eyes firmly on the road in front of her listing the number of calming exercises that Artemis had taught her once upon a time. None of them had worked but it somehow felt like her presence was in the car while she drove.

“Castellan,” She called him coldly, “Wanna explain why you are already holding back information on me?”

“Not particularly,” He said, “But I guess my only other option is you forcibly removing my spleen and I think I’m okay with that. You don’t need a spleen to live right?”

Will groaned, “People like you are the reason I don’t sleep at night.”

Despite herself Zoe snorted. “Did you hear from Di Angelo?” She swerved around a particularly slow car, The lights of the oncoming traffic in the lane beside them threatened to blind her, but she didn’t slow.

The answer was silent so Zoe tossed her phone into the back seat. Will didn’t waste time reminding her that he had his own phone. He dialed Nico’s number from memory and waited politely until it went to voicemail. He put Nico’s generic voice mail on speaker phone just so she could hear it herself.

“That would be a no.” Will inserted hanging up before the tone beeped. “I’ve left him a dozen messages so far but--”

He was cut off by the phone vibrating violenting in his palm. 

“Yell-o, Will Solace speaking,” He said almost bitterly, pausing for the reply. Luke busied himself with staring out the window, frowning. Zoe almost pitied him. She could see his obnoxiously tall figure in her rearview mirror and he looked more distraught than last night. Was it possible that Silena’s words had shaken him up? Just how good was he at acting? She recalled that he had that eidetic memory; that made his memory his biggest enemy these days, didn’t it? 

What was it like to remember every insult ever tossed his way?

_ “You say that like that wasn’t you once, Nightshade.” _

Zoe jerked the car, sending Luke slamming into the window. The car behind them honked. Will made a blundered excuse to the phone. 

“Yeah, sorry, sorry, Zoe’s driving.” Will said haggardly, “You don’t have to be an ass about it Nico. I don’t care if you already guessed that…..where are you anyway?” He shifted in his seat frowning, “That’s pretty far from the city--what are you doing?....No you’re right I don’t want to know. Am I going to have to reset your broken arm like last time?....Sorry! Okay Sorry! Geez… Look we’re on a lead and Zoe would be thrilled if you would maybe join us.” He rattled off the address of Apollo’s Grin as if he had been there a million times before. Zoe doubted he had ever been in a bar before in his life when it wasn’t work related. “Okay, yeah, thanks Nico. We’re going to nail this guy, I just know it! See ya there!”

Will closed the phone and reported that Nico would be joining them shortly at the bar. He smiled, “We’re going to catch him tonight.” His confidence was as annoying as his tone was perky. Zoe sighed. 

“Luke I want everything there is to know on Michael Yew.” She commanded. The blond boy met her eyes in the mirror seeming ready to argue, but after seeing her glare and remembering how thin of ice he was on, Luke merely nodded and pulled out his phone for an informative Google search.

“Okay, uh,” Luke tapped on his screen. “Uh, oh boy. This guy has been brought in on multiple charges of street fights, shoplifting,  _ cage _ fighting and illegal betting. The police haven't been able to make anything stick though, judges pardon his crimes as misdemeanors with community services.”

“Family?”

“Uh… looks like just an adoptive mother who passed a couple years ago. Cancer.”

“Address.”

“How the fuck do you expect me to find an address on-- nevermind.” Luke sighed and read of the location as if disappointed in the internet as a whole. “Do you want to know his dating preferences, too?”

Will whistled as he looked over the other blonde’s shoulder, “Damn she's hot.”

“Will you're gay.” Zoe reminded him.

He looked offended making an ungodly noise, “I'm bi, Zoe. Even then I can appreciate the inner beauty of a woman.”

“Who is she?”

Will furiously tapped Luke's screen, but the other boy beat him to it, “Looks like…Tanka. Drew Tanka. She's a model from Cupid’s Arrow.” Luke closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again it seemed as if he was no longer in the car with them. “She's won Miss Aphrodite twice in a row, but loss this year to her stepsister Piper McLean. Shortly afterwards she got convicted in a crime… shoplifting, but as a misdemeanor the judge had her do twenty hours of community service with the same group as Michael Yew.”

The car was silent for a fill minute after he spoke. Zoe eased them between traffic, pausing only slightly to catch Will’s eye in the backseat.

“They broke up yesterday.” He added, as an afterthought. “Apparently, she’s gay.”

“Anyone ever tell you that's creepy?” Will asked. 

Luke sighed,  “ _ I  _ think it's creepy, man. You've got no clue.”

_ “You’ve got no clue what’s coming for you, Zoe.”  _

Zoe stared ahead and drove like everything was fine. Will and Luke scrolled through feeds and feeds about Michael Yew and his relationship, and Zoe heard none of it. She would see him soon enough, and Zoe always thought she did better at reading people on the spot than what blasphemy the internet created. She told herself it as many times as she could. Again and again.

She pretended like she wasn’t seeing her superior officer, the woman who took her in, who gave her a chance, her loyal Lady Artemis, getting shot three times in her head, and hearing the sounds of her own screams grating on her ears.

***

_ “You’ll get nowhere with that case, Agent.”  _

_ “Don’t tell me what I’m going to or not going to do.” _

_ “You must be the new recruit, aren’t you?” The woman’s voice was like a warrior's, commanding respect. Zoe wasn’t one to give it easily. “I heard you had an attitude.” _

_ “If you came here solely to comment on my attitude then kindly dismiss yourself please.” Zoe told her, polite enough to not get herself fired but hard enough that the woman before her would get the picture. They could tell her a million different ways in a million different tones that she was not welcome here, that she should go back to her private school and dainty dresses, but Zoe was not going to listen.  _

_ The woman smiled at her, and tapped the file, “His mother was a con-- he knows all the tricks in the book and is smart enough to make up his own on the spot. You’ll waste yourself on him.” _

_ “And this is your problem because...?” Zoe leveled her a hard glare. _

_ “Because I have a weak spot for girls who are being wasted on minor drug dealing cases rather than the homicidal maniac I have lined up right now.” The woman dropped another file on top of Zoe’s, her hand pressing it down like she could bury the case file with her own papers. “I think you’ll find this one to be a bit more...rewarding. But if you’re set on putting Ethan Nakamura away, he can be a side project if you like.” _

***

Nico was suppose to have stopped smoking about a year ago, but when they pulled up, he was standing in the smoking zone with a pack out and a lighter flicking open and closed in his hands. Zoe could see the wear that the day and a half had taken on him. If there was one thing he hadn’t done that Zoe could prove, it was sleep. He still wore the same suit from the last time they had seen each other, rumpled, crumpled and harboring dark splotches of what Zoe hoped was an energy drink or coffee. He had been staring at them the entire time, but didn’t seem to actually see them until Will was directly in front of him chastising his health. 

“Really, Nico!” Will splurged, “Those things will kill you!”

Nico looked like he hoped they did. He blinked twice before his dark eyes focused on Will. They were rimmed with red; strain from tears or the lack thereof Zoe noticed. He was too close to the investigation, but too far in to be able to drag himself out of it. It was his sister, and her murderer, and a fear of death that dragged him to Apollo’s Grin Bar that night. Zoe wondered if a need of Revenge was a suitable excuse to keep him on the team.

Nico put out the cigarette and Zoe pulled him to the side, “Are you okay?”

He gave her a blank look. Of course he was alright; didn’t she see how alright he was? “I’m ready to Fucking nail this Son of a Bitch so my sister can finally rest.”

Luke shifted behind them, glancing across the street with a hollow and haunted look. His sensitivity almost made Zoe want to pity him. Will bit his lip, looking at the building before them.

It wasn’t the fanciest place Zoe had ever been, but it was far from the roughest that she had tackled with Artemis while sniffing out criminals. It had a blinking neon sign full glass windows. The doors were cleaned and the lights dimmed but still visible. It looked to be some type of band playing night because it was full and music dripped out of the doors when she opened them. 

Almost immediately a waitress was in front of them, a mousy, meek looking girl. She wore a new uniform but must have been used to the job because she barely had to shift her hands to carry her weight load of cups and beers when she saw them.

“Table of four?” She asked. Zoe flashed her badge, quickly quietly while Nico scanned the crowd for their charge. “Oh, officers.” She sobered up her smiled straightening her back, “What can I do for you?”

“We’re looking for a man by the name of Michael Yew.” Zoe explained, “Would you--”

“Got him,” Nico cut in and dove head first into the mix. Luke was barely a step behind him, slipping a drink from the waitresses tray with an apologetic smile. Zoe wished she had just shot him back on that dance floor when they had first met. She glanced at Will, who fluttered nervously at the doors while people shuffled by him. 

“I think…” He said, “I’ll just...car.” He shrugged and ducked back out of the bar. Zoe hoped that no one ended up being shot tonight. Will would have a heck of a time getting notified of that while in the car.

The waitress bit her lip, looking the same way most people looked when they wished they could throw rowdy customers out of the establishment. Zoe handed her a twenty and hurried after the boys.

To be honest, she was surprised Nico had managed to walk up to him and introduce himself like a normal person. She saw in slow motion his graceful movement, and not for the first time wondered how he seemed to unmoved by the people around him. He was a shadow, untouchable, and dare Zoe say unbreakable.

Nico walked up to Michael, who sat at the bar in a sweatshirt a size too small. His black bangs swept across his forehead, and muscled arms were splayed in the form of utter defeat on in the counter. The barista rolled her eyes at him talking but Zoe couldn't hear what she was saying.

Nico pulled out his badge, his smile all teeth and none of the kindness.

Michael took a swing at him.

Zoe cursed.

The fight was over within seconds, almost too fast to be called a fight, and definitely not equal enough. Nico saw the attack coming-- he probably had been hoping for it. He dodged the punch sweeping under Michael's defense like a breeze of wind. Nico’s fist slammed into his jaw, a strike that made even Zoe wince, and his other hand grabbed the wounded man and threw him against the counter. Two drinks spilled over the edge and the sounds of glass breaking was enough to get the rest of the patron’s attention.

“It’s okay!” Zoe hollered at them, “It’s okay! Police!” She waved her badge for all of them to see, while Michael spit out some drunken curse. “If I could have everybody vacate this area please-- yes thank you, thank you!” She shot Agent Di Angelo a glare to go along with her sweet talking.

The Barista sighed as she watched the customers leave like this happened every Tuesday night. She met Zoe’s eyes and put down the cup she had been drying. “I’ll be in the back.” She said.

Luke sat himself at a chair not far away, eyes alert and fingers tapping. He had already gotten rid of his first drink but he didn’t look any worse for wear. With as high as his alcohol tolerance had to be, Zoe would have been surprised if it took any less than seven cups to get him to loosen up. 

(Zoe also was amazed he dared touch another drink; last time someone had tried to overdose him on a deadly drug)

“Mr. Yew,” Zoe addressed, motioning for Nico to let him up. The boy in black scowled waiting a second or two before roughly releasing his hold on the other man. Michael coughed violently and rolled his shoulder, flexing one arm in a motion that was supposed to be intimidating.

“I’ll kill you, you little brat--”

“Mr. Yew,” Zoe snapped harsher, “Did you know it’s a crime to threaten an officer of the law?”

He set his beady little eyes on her, with an unflattering snarl, “I don’t give jackshit who he is! He spilled my drink!”

“He's drunk.” Luke put in, as if Zoe couldn't figure that out by herself. He smelled like alcohol. 

Michael swiveled on his feet, “You're drunk!” 

“Okay, Alright! Mr. Yew!” Zoe commanded,  “You need to calm down!”

“I am calm!”

Zoe resisted the urge to lose her own cool. Nico’s hands disappeared from view, but Zoe knew he was no less dangerous with his hands in his pockets than he was with them pointing a gun at them.

“I was more calm before your shitfaced friend here dropped in like I’m some kind of criminal!” He threw his arms up, “I ain’t no criminal! You cops do more damage than me! Ya’ll are all just...big…” He struggled to find a word, but Nico wasn’t having any of it. He twisted Micheal into a choke hold, despite being taller than him by a couple inches. Michael jabbed his elbow back, but Nico was unaffected by the blow. Zoe watched until Michael’s face turned red, before realizing that Nico might actually not stop with the day he’d been having.

“Di Angelo!” She growled, “This is not the time nor the place to be killing possible suspects. Save it for Nakamura.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, Nico’s eyes flashing with murderous rage, before  they were swallowed by the dark desire in his irises, the desire, the craving of revenge. Ethan was the only one who could give him what he wanted, and Zoe, be damned to hell as she was, would manipulate that desire until it wa fulfilled.

Nico let go of Michael again and the older man dropped to the floor gasping for oxygen. Zoe took one step forward and then knelt beside him. When he looked up she was right in his face, eye to eye, and one hand on her holstered gun.

“Now, Mr. Yew,” She said calmly, “I don’t have all night. Tell me the whereabouts of Ethan Nakamura and we will leave you to your night.”

“I don’t know nothing--”

Zoe gave him her best unimpressed look, “Nico--”

“I swear!” Michael scrambled back, away from the officer in black with a look of pure terror, “I don’t know nothing about Ethan Fucking Nakamura! I stay the Hell away from that guy!” He shook, desperately scraping at his sleeve. He rolled the fabric back with difficulty, and showing Zoe his forearm, “That bastard stabbed me! Look! Doctor said I would’ve lost my hand if he had been a centimeter to the right more!”

Nico snorted, as unimpressed as one got with reports of stabbings, “Why’d he do it?”

Michael’s face screwed into a sneer, “Fucker off! Because he’s crazy that’s why! Ethan Nakamura is the biggest fucker out there! If I had that information I would have already paid him a home visit myself!”

Zoe clicked her tongue. It annoyed her when people took the law into their own, inexperienced, incapable hands. It usually left more of a mess for the police to clean up and that was before the lawyers got involved. It annoyed her more that she believed him. Michael Yew did not know where Ethan was and they were at a dead end looking for them.

The door chime rang. 

“Wow, I’ve never seen this place look so empty. Not even back when it was a shitty night club!” A voice rang out, “It’s atrocious! Katie!  _ Katie _ ! Quick I need a Beer!”

The owner of the voice was a teenager of the fallen society. Zoe was pretty sure she had seen his picture on the latest edition of  _ Parents Weekly: Your Children Are Out Of Control.  _ He was in his fresh twenties with a clean shaven face and expensive clothes, his eyes had a wild look to them, the green jumping and popping and dark bags under them. His smile sang of intoxication, and he walked with a deliberate pace, brows furrowed as he struggled to keep in a straight line. His brown hair was overdue for a haircut, as it splintered up in all places as if hands had been tugging the locks all night long.

“ _ Katieeee!”  _ He sang, “I don’t have all night!”

“Excuse me sir,” Zoe gritted her teeth, “This bar is off limits now.”

“Oh don’t bother with him.” Luke called to her, “That’s Alabaster C. Torrington.” He said the name like it should mean something to her. When Luke realized it didn’t he was hasty to put down his drink and explain, “Rich kid with a sister who runs the MistForm Family Company. She works, he spends the money get drunk and harassing cops, usually not on purpose.”

He banged on the front counter, “Damnit Katie Gardner! This is because I didn’t tip last time isn’t it?!”

“He’s also oblivious to his surroundings.” Luke added.

“Can I forcibly remove him?” Nico asked.

Zoe considered it, mouth open to give the go ahead, when Michael had suddenly leapt up. He threw an arm at Alabaster, “YOU!” He roared, “YOU KNOW!” 

The rich kid finally seemed to notice the rest of them. “Hey!” He smiled, “Yew! Castellan! You won’t  _ believe  _ the wicked rumors going on! You can get Katie on out here--”

Michael grabbed him by his collar, yanking before Zoe, “He knows where Nakamura hangs! He buys his drugs!”

“ _ Drugs?” _ Alabaster said, “What kind? Are we doing drugs tonight? I thought you were drug free since Grace came into the picture Castellan! Katieee! Come on!”

Luke casted his gaze around the store at the mention of Thalia. His face was blank but Zoe could get that his chest was tight from the way his hands suddenly curled into fists. She wondered if he had flashbacks every time someone said her name.

“Mr. Torrington,” She started.

“Are you the druggie? You don’t look like a druggie. Or maybe the term is drug supplier. Are you the drug supplier?”

“I’m not a drug supplier. I’m the police.” She showed him her badge, “And you are going to tell me where Ethan Nakamura is, or I’m going to arrest you right now.”

He looked at her. “So you don’t have drugs?”

_ “Resorting to violence with every suspect is not a good habit to make, Nightshade. Our restraint is the only real difference between the police and Hades.” _

_ “Maybe I should join the gang, then.” _

Nico stepped forward, his shoes sounding like gunshots on the floor. Michael flinched and drew away immediately. Alabaster took in the new form with a smile.

“Hey I know you!” He said, excitedly, “Aren’t you--”

“I have drugs.” Nico cut him off impassively, and let the words shut him up, “I’ll give them to you.”

“No way!” Torrington shook his head swaying on his face.

“I’ll give you them all,” Nico added, “but only if you tell me where I can find Ethan Nakamura.”

The rich kid thought about it for a bit more than a millisecond, before he shook his head so violently he lost balance and fell into Zoe. He smelled like straight vodka. 

“Ethan likes to watch his night clubs!” The boy said, “All the time. Makes sure no one else is selling things so he can make a mona- moana- monopa- ”

“Monopoly?” Luke suggested.

“That!” Alabaster nodded again, “But then he heads back home to his apartment!”

Zoe tapped her foot impatiently, “We checked his apartment. Where else would he be?”

“Sometimes he and Cecil hang out, he’s got a room at Cecil’s apartment. Well it’s really his apartment now, isn’t it? Cecil moved in with his  _ girlfriend _ !” He laughed, conspiratorially, “I heard Lou Ellen locks him in the basement when he’s bad.”

“Cecil or Ethan?” Michael frowned.

A clear, clean look flashed in Alabaster’s eyes, a mischievous smile, “Cecil’s easier to punish now, isn’t he?”

Luke made a sound like someone had stepped on a cat. He covered his face, “I didn't need that picture!”

Alabaster laughed until he was crying, which wasn’t all that long. He sobered up just enough to finish tell Zoe exactly where this Cecil’s apartment was. It was a good five blocks away, and to be honest they could probably get there faster running than driving. Zoe nodded at Nico, who tossed a baggie of ibuprofen at the brown haired boy before racing towards the doors, Luke following only half a second later.

Michael watched them with a scowl, “I hope Nakamura dies.”

Torrington laughed drunkenly.

_ “Look at the full picture, Zoe. Not the individual pieces. You can come back and arrest every person that helped you later.” _

Zoe wished the sounds of her sneakers on the ground had drowned out the voice in her head.

****

“So that’s the plan?” Will repeated, “Just...break down the door and arrest him?”

“Do you have a problem with that?” Zoe asked jerking her wheel to take a sharp turn at the intersection rather than worry about traffic up ahead. Nico clung to the overhead handle in an attempt to keep himself balanced. Luke was looking a bit green in the rearview mirror.

“Well beside the fact that it is not a plan…” Will shook his head, “Whatever, if you guys get shot, don’t blame me for not being about to patch you up.”

Zoe flinched, and Will went pale as if suddenly realizing exactly what he had said. “Uh, I mean- Look I didn’t-!”

“Solace,” Nico cut in, “Your best move is to shut up.”

Will nodded and slumped back in his seat. Luke watched with a confused complexion, but was smart enough not to ask.

“Next left here.” Nico reported.

“Castellan stay in the car.” Zoe told him as she swerved the car into a parking lot but not bothering to park in a space. Nico checked his gun on his hip, and Will hefted a first aid kit

“What, why?”

“Because I said so.” Zoe growled. She kicked open her door, “I don’t need a civilian casually on my record. Too much paperwork.” Luke looked offended, but he sat back in the seat. Zoe appreciated the idea that she could control him. Even the stupid ones could learn, she supposed.

She nodded to Nico and he disappeared in the shadows, in front of her, his gun held tightly in both hands at his side. Zoe was only a couple silent steps behind him, her breath angry with anticipation. Luke hadn’t known any of those creepy facts about Cecil Markowitz so they were flying in blind. Will stood in the open door of the car watching the dark windows of the apartment building. A simple page on his phone would have him up the stairs faster than a gunshot itself.

They gained access to the building fast, and were crawling up the stairs at a quick silent pace. Sound poured from behind a couple of the wooden walls: music, arguements, children laughing, and the tv. But when they got to the floor where Cecil’s and Ethan’s apartment was, the silence was unnerving. Nico stuck to the walls, but with her questioning glance he simply shook his head. All of the apartments were empty, or made to seem that way. 

The door they were targeting was in the middle of the hall, facing south. The door was missing the marked number and the handle hung a clip with a sign of DO NOT DISTURB. Zoe grinned. She couldn’t wait to break the door in and disturb every sinister plan Ethan Nakamura was making.

Nico stole across the doorframe, and Zoe stayed on her side. They shared a look and he nodded his readiness. Zoe held her gun by her hip and slammed her heel into the weakest part of the door: right under the handle where the lock hitch rest. The door splintered and exploded against the opposite way. 

“Police!” Zoe yelled to anyone in the house, “Come out with you hands up!”

She stormed the short hall, with Nico on her tail.

Something was wrong, she noticed right away. The small hall was filled with cardboard boxes, labeled in horrible sharpie handwriting. Some were opened, but most were closed and wrapped with clear packing tape. Zoe glanced in the closest open one, seeing neatly stacked piles of vintage Marvel Comics.

Someone was moving in, or moving out. She checked the corner and when no bullets shredded the wall she took her chances into the next room, the living room she guessed.

It didn’t look like a place for the living anymore.

The area was clear, but crimson painted the sleek wooden floorboards. The stench hit her next, the smell of souring blood. Zoe’s eyes watered as she scanned the room for hazards. Jagged edges of a glass mirror scattered across the floor, a roll of duct tape soaked up a red color from a puddle nearby. A bookshelf was thrown to the ground and the literature works lost like leaves in the wind. A single lamp was on, flickering in the corner, knocked to the ground and lightbulb threatening to catch on the ground on fire.

In the center of it all was a body tied to a knocked over chair, head hanging low.

“Call Solace!” Zoe commanded, as she rushed towards the body. It was a male, younger than her, but not by much. His sandy hair pasted across his pale forehead, and mouth covered with a gag tied tighter than necessary. Her breath caught as she dropped in a pile of blood. Her hands reached to check his pulse but she already knew what it was.

There was so much blood.

_ “Nightshade! Clear the Room!” _

Too much blood.

_ “ARGH!” _

The boy in front of her was Cecil Markowitz. He looked different than the photo they had on file. His face was devoid of the smile his driver’s license had, his eyes closed enough to look like he was just sleeping uncomfortably. His legs were fastened to the legs of the wooden chair with ten layers of grey duct tape, his hands had gone limp, wrists stuck to their sides of the wooden backrest. Cuts danced up and down his bare arms, like a million paper cuts, and Zoe could smell lemon on him amidst the blood. She thought his T shirt might have been blue, but it was just a dark blob now. Someone had cut him open, repeatedly.

Someone had tortured him.

“Holy Shit,” Will’s voice pulled her back from her thoughts. His med kit was in hand, but he knew now that he wouldn’t need it. Luke was standing behind him with a hand of his mouth and looking petrified. 

“Zoe, you’re covered in blood.” Nico said.

She ignored him, “Call Dispatch. Let them know we’ve got a body. Solace, can you get me a time of death?”

The blonde boy shook his head and looked away, “I deal with living people, Zoe. The dead are beyond me.” He swallowed hard, “But based on blood dispersion, four hours at least.”  
Four hours ago, Zoe was entering the firing range. While she had been shooting red and white targets and talking to ghosts, someone-- _Ethan--_ had tortured this boy. Why? Why would someone possibly want to do this?

“He bled out,” Will said softly. Luke leaned back against the wall, staring at anything that wasn’t the body. 

Nico snapped on a pair of disposable gloves, and picked through some of the wreckage nearby, a knocked over cardboard box with snow globes from California and Disneyland, the broken glass and glitter shined in the flickering light. Zoe pulled out her phone to start preliminary pictures; she’s come expecting a drug dealer with a gun, not a murdered body. She tried to pretend like she wasn’t documenting the last things that Cecil would have ever scene.

That was when a phone went off, playing a generic tune that sounded like bells and sunshine. Luke frowned over Will’s shoulder as the medic checked the caller ID distantly. Whatever it was he didn’t recognize it.

“Yell-o, Will Solace--” He cut off suddenly, his face going pale. Zoe took a picture of the broken bookcase. Cecil must have been into romance novels too, She noticed.

“Who is this?” Zoe watched with detached curiosity as Will fumbled with his phone as if he was hearing things, a voice of someone long gone or a famous celebrity, maybe. “You said you were getting rid of my number! Do you even know where I am right---” His mouth fell into a circular shape, and his eyes widened as he stared at the wall behind them, “Excuse me? You did what?”

His sharp tone cut the silent air like a knife. Nico stood up to watch him, and Luke leaned against a wall in thought. 

“Don’t move, alright? I don't care--Don't move.” Will said, then he winced at whatever the reply was, “I--I’ll be right there.” He hung up whisking around with to face the three of them.

“Who was that, Will?” Nico asked. 

Will forced a smile, “There’s an Emergency; I need to go. Since I’m of no use here-” There was something in his tone, a weariness in his eyes. Zoe’s senses were on high alert at once. It wasn’t like Will to step out of an investigation, he tagged along in everything. If his friend was hurt he should just call an ambulance.

“Who was it?” She asked.

Will looked like deer in headlights. His hand clamped his cell like he could break it with just a grip.

“Something’s been bothering me,” Luke added suddenly. He uncrossed his arms and pushed off the wall, “You said that you never heard Ethan getting ready, but the pictures of the room showed it in totally disarray. That kind of mess makes a noise. And opening a window in a building like that...I would know how much noise that makes, I’ve snuck into a million rooms like that. Ethan had to have been prepared before you ever knocked on the door.”

“And the number of people who knew we were going after Ethan is narrowed to three people in this room.” Nico said.

Will looked like he’d been shot, “You…you can’t be serious!” He backed away, “Guys… it’s  _ me. _ ” He looked around wildly at them, meeting their eyes desperately. Zoe was sick to her stomach when his crystal irises fell on her. She could see the truth them, her breath caught. “Guys?”

Her fingers twitched towards her belt loop where she handcuffs were tucked in their pouch. The same handcuffs that had put away villains from shoplifters to murders to serial killers. They were made to bind the darkness that haunted the city, control the dangers and protect innocent people.

She couldn’t...not on Will.

She turned to Agent Di Angelo who looked murderous. Hurt splattered across his face in dangerous shades of red, his hands gripping his holstered gun with straining white knuckles. He wanted to draw it, he wanted to grab Will by the throat and slam him on the ground and demand answers, he wanted to hurt Will the way that Ethan had hurt his sister. How could Will have protected that monster? How could he have still smiled and laughed knowing that he let a seventeen year old’s murderer get away, that the same man had attempted to kill Luke with an over dosage?

“Call the office. I want a record of the calls from Will’s desk phone and his cell phone.” Zoe said wondering when her voice had retained that cold and distant tone or if it always had.

Will slumped his shoulders. He stared at the phone and for the second it felt like eternity. No one could move. When he looked back up his eyes were brimming with tears, even in the the dim lighting they shown. He dropped his phone on the ground. It’s clatter sounded like a grenade in the middle of them.

“I’m sorry,” He said, “I’m sorry, so sorry.” 

“You Son of a Bitch!” Nico screamed. “I  _ trusted  _ You!”

“He’s at an apartment in the New Rome district.” Will went on, “I’m sorry. It’s under a fake name, Clovis Hypnos. I swear...I’m sorry.”

Zoe didn’t think she would ever forget the sound her hand cuffs made as they locked around his wrists. She should have seen it coming. But she didn’t, and now Cecil was dead. Will had...Will had leaked information to Ethan. Will had known where he was the entire time hadn’t he?

Nico had called dispatch to add in the new information,  _ a dirty cop. _ It could have been anyone, but Zoe never would have guessed it had been Will. Nico and Luke hung Police tape around the apartment.

They were silent, cold. In a normal day this is the point where Will would have dropped a joke or two, cheered them up, reminded them that they would find the killer soon.

Zoe tried not to feel like everything she knew was a joke. Had she been playing the fool for the entire time they had know each other? She was their supervisor. How did she not know Will was threading information? What would she have done if she found out another way? Reading him his rights was like twisting a dagger in her chest. Would Artemis have seen this coming?

The police cars pulled up later. Nico and Luke talked to them, Zoe led her charge to the nearest cruiser.

“Zoe.” Will’s voice was low, apologetic. Zoe didn’t want to hear it. “Zoe.”

“It’s Agent Nightshade,” she snapped.

He snorted, hanging his head. Zoe shoved him into the padded interior of Agent La Rue’s cruiser. She could hear the other officer loudly exclaiming threats behind them, disbelief. No one wanted to believe that Will was a snitch.

“Take a doctor with you.” He told her, “or you might not get anything.”

Zoe couldn’t resist, “Did you know all this time, Solace? How long have you been leaking information?”

He stared straight ahead, “It was suppose to be a one time deal. He...he saved my sister.” His hands were fists against the aching metal bracelets. “I don’t think he did it.” Will swallowed hard, “I really am sorry, Zoe.”

“Sorry doesn’t bring back Thalia Grace or Cecil Markowitz.” She snapped. She slammed the car door wishing the force would wake her from the nightmare. Why did it have to be Will Solace? “Fletcher!” She bellowed across the lot, “You’re with me. Castellan, Di Angelo get in the fucking car. I’m catching Ethan Nakamura tonight.”

***


	4. The Family Secret is the Skeletons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's time for some answers.

_ Life is a series of snapshots. Everything can be told in a series of photos, pinned on the wall or hidden in an album. The dates inscribed on the back of each printed picture, a timeline that told a story bigger than what anyone else thought. _

_ Each snapshot, each component chosen and morphed, edited and framed, placed there for one reason. The story wasn’t about a drug dealer, or a CEO’s son, or a officer drowning in guilt, or a Medic loyal to his own promises. But they are all in the photos. Each a piece of the story. _

 

_ Snap One: A Blonde Boy in the back of a Police Car. _

***

Will Solace had grown up his entire life believing in the goodness of people. He treated it like a faith, a religion. Most days it was the only thing keeping him going. 

He always wondered what it was like to sit in the back of a police car. How many criminals had been pulled from the back of these to his office where he cleaned them up and sent them off for interrogation or to their cells? How many times had they proclaimed their innocence with Will as their only listener? 

He remembered once a man, twice his age, and thrice his height being brought in with a nasty gash down his arm. He was still too pumped with adrenalin to be feeling the pain. His every word was like a jab at the officers that guarded the doors while Will worked. He was innocent didn’t, they know? Did he look like he could have killed his wife? Will had been working quickly; the man put him on edge. Then right as he was about to start stitching the wound the man leapt up and grabbed him by his collar.

He was desperate for someone to believe him.

After the man had been removed and his wound stitched up, Will had ripped off his shirt and ordered for a new lab coat too. The man had left bloodied hand prints the size of boulders on them.

Will understood that now. That feeling. He wanted them to know why he did it. Why he let Ethan guilt him into it. Why he thought Ethan was innocent. He wondered if he would come off just as crazy as that last man had, proclaiming who exactly had called him by name with desperate tone.

***

_ Snap Two: Silhouettes in the Night Sky _

_ *** _

_ “Bianca! Bianca! Come Play with me!” _

_ “We’ve been playing all day, Nico. Go play by yourself or something.” _

_ “But it’s always more fun when we play together!” _

***

_ Snap Three: The Dead Man Fearing Death. _

***

“Castellan, stay in the car.” Zoe didn’t have to argue with him this time. Luke gripped the polyester seat in his hands. He didn’t even know why he was here anymore. Sure he wanted to catch this Ethan guy, but something wasn’t sitting right in his stomach, moreso now than before. He knew he had seen Ethan at the club arguing with that girl (it had checked out to be just another club patron), but they had never talked. It seemed so stupid for Ethan to try and kill him for no reason unless the guy was a serial killer.

He didn’t act like a serial killer.

Luke didn’t act like a killer either, he guessed.

He watched Zoe and Nico scope the building, and Lee Fletcher (who had barely said a word the whole ride) right behind them. They moved without words as if knowing each other’s thoughts.

Luke tried not to think about when Thalia would send him little texts messages of happiness when he was having a bad day, or his dad was telling him how to live his life, or his school was demanding too much. She knew, without him having to utter a sound, without being able to see him. Even from states away she was making him smile. 

His phone had been confiscated as more evidence. He felt sick now just thinking about it. What would she had said at a time like this?

_ “Brought this on yourself jackass.”  _ Probably. Or:  _ “Next time don’t kill me.”  _

Zoe led Lee into the building. Nico followed after a second his gun out and looking black in the white light of the lampposts. Luke let out a steely breath.

They would be okay.

He didn’t know them that well, but he doubted Zoe would die before she chewed Will Solace out a bit more, or before she saw his case closed. She had that type of determination. Thalia would have liked her.

That was the moment Luke noticed the shadow, the silhouette. He watched it pull from the alley beside the apartment building, rather reculent like pulling apart the individual threads of a hangman's rope. It was human, Luke knew that much, he had seen the stumbled it had far too many times, but this one was different. This one looked  _ wrong.  _ Like something was hurt, dying. 

The genderless form toppled over hitting the ground without a sound distinguishable in the night.

Luke had never been much of a religious person despite his mother dragging him to the chapel every Sunday morning at eight am. He indulged her as much as he could, but the idea of a God with a capital G was never something he could follow. Why would a deity create such a self destructive race? And the Ten Commandments? Weren’t those just common sense? Ye shall not kill-- well Luke guessed he was screwed now.

So like most desperate people, Luke did prayed to the god that he didn’t believe in that maybe, just maybe, they all could wake up from this nightmare soon.

Then he unbuckled himself and got out of the car.

***

_ Snap Three: The Eavesdropping Boy _

***

_ “Bianca, what does Dad do for work?” _

_ “Stuff.” _

_ “What kind of stuff?” _

_ “Just...Hard...things, Nico. Why--did you hear something?” _

***

_ Snap Four: The Woman Trapped in the Clock. _

***

For someone who didn’t exist, Clovis Hypnos kept a very messy house. Still Zoe had seen worse. She kicked in the door, with her gun ready, but (unfortunately) nothing came flying at her. She was so ready for a reason to put the goddamned drug dealer out of commission. She nodded back at Nico and they split, clearing the rooms as they went. Lee stood outside, with his medic box and a look of unease. There was something about the apartments that had sent her head buzzing too.

Considering how they had found Cecil Markowitz, Zoe was ready for anything. 

The rooms themselves weren’t a mess. The bedroom caught her attention as she opened the closet doors as if Ethan would be hunkering down waiting for her with a knife. There was only one bed, a queen sized, with lavender-grey sheets. One side was thrown over as if someone had tossed the blankets back over the mattress before leaving and the other was left open for the night chill. Both were slept in. 

Ethan wasn’t alone.

“Clear!” She shouted.

“I’ve got a body!” Nico shouted back. Zoe hooked her gun in it’s holster and rushed to find him. 

He was standing in the hallway effectively blocking the path. When she and Lee reached him he seemed to dropped his gun and it mixed with the mess on the floor. The living room was tossed and turned as if a tornado had blown through it. The furniture overturned, the coffee table broken. The TV was on it’s side and the glass spilled across the carpet. The connecting kitchen was a wreck, cabinets spilling pots on the ground, glasses crystallized on the tile. In the dim light they looked like hardened moonlight. Bullet holes were in the wall, looking even smaller compared to the disaster before them. Cold wind blew in from the cracked and broken sliding glass doors.

The body was female, lying amidst the wreckage like a body washed ashore from a shipwreck. She wore makeshift pajamas made from old gym short and a T shirt. Her face was lying away from them, but her chest wasn't moving.

For a moment Zoe didn’t see a teenage girl there. She blinked and the ground was covered in blood and the woman on the ground was wearing a uniform. It was Artemis, unmoving, not breathing, and it was Zoe’s fault. But when she blinked again Lee was shoving through both of them with his med kit ready, and Nico had fallen to the ground, shaking.

“Bianca,” He said, simply, his voice a scream in the silence. “No. Nononono, Bianca.”

That was when Zoe realized just who was lying dead on the ground.

***

_ Snap Five: The Family Secret is the Skeletons _

_ *** _

_ “Why didn’t you tell me?! I...I had a right to know!”  _

_ “You had no need to know!” _

_ “Dad  _ murders  _ for a living! I had every right to know!” _

_ “It doesn’t matter what right you thought you had. I’m the successor. I gave the order to keep it a secret. You’re welcome.” _

_ *** _

_ Snap Six: The Red Herring _

_ *** _

Ethan stumbled to the ground. His head was pounding, his limbs crying or maybe that was his eyes. He was so lost, he hated being lost in the night. The darkness seemed to creep out just to swallow him. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

The voice seemed to called to him from far away. Ethan blinked trying to focus. He just need to make sure she was okay, he didn’t know how long he had been out. Solace wouldn’t have neglected someone in trouble right? Even if it was him. Every step felt like he had been tearing apart his body. The pain wrapping him in a tight embrace reminded him that he should be dead. 

He hated his life.

But he’d hate it more later.

She came first. Bianca always came first.

“Oh my god,” The voice said again, drawing him back to reality. There was someone standing over him--when did he get on the ground?--, the moonlight turn the man’s hair white. “You’re losing a lot of blood.”

Ethan wanted to say something witty,  _ “No shit Sherlock,”  _ or something like that, but all that came out was a metallic burn of blood. The man was putting pressure on his wounds, Ethan was numb to the point where it all felt like the pain was happening to someone else. The man kept talking, pressing, cursing. He wasn’t dressed for this like of work and Ethan didn’t care what happened to his own body.

Someone needed to know about the murderer his apartment. Someone needed to stop him before he killed Bianca.

Just like he killed Ethan.

Ethan grabbed the blonde man’s arm, and spit the name of his murderer with enough spite to send his soul to Hell feeling victorious. The man’s eyes went wide, his lips moved to say something, but Ethan only grinned that ugly monstrous grin he saved for when he knew things were not going to go his way.

“Save… her…” He told the blurry image above him before everything faded to black.

***

_ Snap Eight: You Are Not A Murderer _

_ *** _

_ “You couldn’t just let it go could you?” _

_ “What do you care?” _

_ “I tried to protect you from all this!” _

_ “All This? All This? This is nothing, Bianca. But if you can’t handle it, then you need to go. I’ll take over Dad’s industry.” _

_ ***  _

_ Snap Nine: You Are Not…. _

_ *** _

Alabaster slung himself into a seat, stretching casually. Michael rolled his shoulder and leaned over the counter to snag a bottle of alcohol Katie hadn’t put back yet.

“I’m going to kill him,” He snarled to the other boy rubbing his neck.

“Easy, mate.” Alabaster said, “I have not had enough shit to drink in order to even have that conversation with you yet tonight.” 

“You make a convincing drunk.” Michael pitched two cups on the counter and filled them with an amber drink. “How much did he pay?” 

Alabaster smiled, “Enough to make Drew Tanka come crawling back to you on her knees. I might even be able to buy my company back from Lamia!”

Michael handed him a half full glass and they knocked them back together.

***

_ Snap Ten: You...Can’t… _

_ *** _

“She was strangled.” Lee said, “Her body's still warm so it couldn’t have been more than a couple hours ago.” He frowned at her, she was so young. Why was she doing at this madman’s secret apartment? Wrong place wrong time? Or was she his lover? Lee couldn’t imagine someone loving that monster after he tried to overdose Luke Castellan with that hellish drug. 

“I need a time of death.” Zoe said. She was refusing to glance at the body again. The officer was emotionally compromised, but no one other than Agent Artemis had ever dared tell her that. Zoe bent over the broken glass not far away, shifting it with a gloved hand.

“I’m not a mortician.” Lee told her. He stood up frowning, “Something’s weird about her position though. I’m not sure what, but the marks on...her...neck…” He leaned close, his own hand sliding to his neck, “These marks….I’ve seen them before.”

She made a noise of affirmation, but her attention had fallen on something else. Lee tried to place where he had seen them before, it had been recently too. Back at the office, on another agent. The hadn’t been severe and the agent hadn’t even stopped in the medic room for that injury. What had he said it had been from…

“Nico,” Zoe asked, “What time is it?”

He didn’t move.

***

_ Snap Eleven:...Please... _

_ *** _

Zoe pulled the watch from the mess, the clock face cracked. The inside was inscribed with a single name, etched in the silver cover like a death sentence.

***

_ Snap Twelve: Poisonous _

***

The gunshots sounded like fireworks. They were faster than Zoe could react, exploding in beautiful displays of red. He always like the color red, like the roses that his mother liked to place in the vase on the table when they were little. He liked black more, but red wasn’t bad.

They were both on the ground. Lee wouldn’t been getting back up. What a shame.

Lee’s blood splattered across the tan carpet. The shag accepted the liquid in a greedy hunger drinking it right out of the pathetic medic’s body. Zoe was only in the shoulder. Where was the fun if he killed her right away? He loved the look of shock on her face, the pain and rage because he had taken out her shooting arm.

“Hey Zoe,” He grinned, “Wanna hear a story?”

“Di Angelo…” She spit through gritted teeth. She clutched the wound in her shoulder, breath heavily to compensate the agony.

“Once upon a Time, a man had two children. A girl that he loved so much and a boy he never talked to.” Nico laughed, though not even he could find something funny about the story yet. “The man, oh he loved to prove he was a man. He started a mafia, the lovely mafia and named it after himself, Hades, the Greek God of the Underworld. He loved his wife and his daughter, treated them like princesses, like queens. They never wanted for anything, ya know?”

Nico scowled at the body of his sister. “They knew what he did, how he killed people for the money, how he bribed judges to look the other way, how he built a business on debts and deaths and darkness. They accepted it. I think they liked to pretend they didn’t know. They never told the boy. He just thought his dad was a wealthy Corporation owners.

“ _ ”What does your dad do, Nico?” _ ” he said is a falsetto voice, before shrugging, “Oh you know, stuff. 

“I found out eventually, of course. Got too curious, or maybe Dad wanted me to know. He had his men drop hints, I picked up the pieces rather fast. Turns out my sister, my…  _ lovely, caring  _ sister,” He spit the words between his teeth, venomously, “had accepted to become successor to dear old Dad. She ordered her guards to keep me naive, to keep me away from the wonderful Underworld. I was a Prince, oblivious to the kingdom I walked upon. Because of her.”

His finger played on the trigger of his gun, a smile on his face as he thought about how much of good luck he had received earlier, when she had kicked the gun from his hand. How she had forced him to choke her to death instead, pulling her head back, wrapping his arms across her neck in the movement he had learned from his father’s trainers. Her sudden gasping for breath, pleas that sounded like heaven’s bells in his ears.

“She didn’t have what it took,” He explained to Zoe. He walked around Lee’s fallen body nudging it so that it was no longer blocking his view her corpse. “She was always more soft hearted than most. She wanted to turn the mafia into the SPCA, or something just as stupid. It was far too easy to steal the loyalties of the men under her.

“You’re sick, Nico.” Zoe tried, “So, so sick.”

He snorted, “I’ve never been more sane in my life, Zoe! She didn’t see the profit coming in from Kronos! She couldn’t give the orders so I eliminated her! Of course, back then I had been naive enough to give her a second chance. Let her drag her wet body from the river and pretend to be dead. She never wanted to be a leader so I gave her an out.”

“So what? I’m suppose to see you as a caring younger brother?” Zoe snarled. Her hands twitched.

Nico waved his gun barrel in her direction, “Not at all. It had satisfied my needs, having a dead sister. You never doubted me for a moment, did you? Poor Nico Di Angelo with the dead sister! All he wants is to see her killer put to trial! It would have worked out, you know? I would have undermined the whole Police force from right inside it, ran the whole thing without a hitch.

“But then she just had to come back, didn’t she? She couldn’t let the Kronos thing go. She recruited Ethan and his friends to help her and they stayed under the radar picking apart my... _ My  _ shipments. And when Ethan just happened to be in the same club as Luke that night...man that was a blessing and a half!” He laughed, “Tracking him home, I could pin her murder on him and no one would know the difference. I just needed to let you fan the fire, Nightshade.” He clucked his tongue, “And trust that Ethan would call Solace first, his only medic, so desperate to save the girl he fell in love with, and Will feeling obligated to do the right thing. He has such loose lips when he drinks, told me everything about his sister, and Ethan, and all I gave in return was a little bit of lip service.”

“Why?” She demanded, “Why do any of this, Nico?!”

He shrugged, “It’s fun, I guess. Like playing chess as the queen.”

Scarlet had bled through her police uniform. The sight made him hungry, an itch in his finger to fire again and again until Zoe Nightshade was made of nothing more than blood. Her dark eyes were always so defiant, blacker than his polished shoes. He liked those eyes too much; maybe he’d get that color for his next suit. When this was over she would be just another lost special officer, like Lee, like Artemis. 

Nico loved being the most dangerous playing piece on the board.

“Ethan’s been innocent this whole time, hasn’t he.” Zoe winced as she tried to move only to be stopped by her own wound. 

“As innocent as anyone else!” Nico laughed again, it was more of a cackle, “But I’ll blame everyone’s death on him and he can go out as a true villain just like his mother. I’m sure you remember Nemesis, right? She’s the one that put your partner in the hospital for good. Best usage of Twenty Grand I ever had!”

“You son of a bitch!” 

“Proudly!” He walked over to her until he was right before her. She didn’t look like much of an officer now. Just a scared young woman who had finally woken up from a nice dream. Nico loved his nightmares, the darkness he dragged from the corners of the room to play. He loved seeing fear on the faces of his victims, seeing the crystal light flicker out of their eyes. He took her gun from her holster without looking away from those pupils. With a flip of his wrist he tossed it behind him. 

“I’m sure there are other things you want to know. How I tortured Cecil Markowitz for the address to get here, how I broke in and shot Ethan off the balcony where he fell to his impending death, how I plan to spoof the records so his time of death is after all of yours. I’ll send Luke to be with his beloved too that way you can tell them all how much of a failure you were. Unfortunately, this is the end of your part in the story, Zoe Nightshade.” 

Nico pressed the barrel of his police issued gun to her chest. She weakly tried to kick at him but he pinned her legs down with one knee.

“The End.”

****

_ Life is a series of snapshots. Everything can be told in a series of photos, pinned on the wall or hidden in an album. The dates inscribed on the back of each printed picture, a timeline that told a story bigger than what anyone else thought. _

_ Each snapshot, each component chosen and morphed, edited and framed, placed there for one reason. The story wasn’t about a drug dealer, or a CEO’s son, or a officer drowning in guilt, or a Medic loyal to his own promises. But they are all in the photos. Each a piece of the story. _

_ This is the shittest story I’ve ever heard,  _ Bianca thought as she shot her brother in the back of the head with Zoe Nightshade’s gun.


	5. Epilogue

“You’re right,” Luke said, “That really was a shit story.” He picked at his Lo Mein with chopsticks before snagging an egg roll from the middle of the desk. “I mean, I’m just supposed to believe that the watch, which had Nico Di Angelo’s name engraved in it, was just lying in the pile of glass? I mean I noticed he wasn’t wearing it earlier but I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Well obviously it was. You should care about every little detail.” Ethan told him, his feet up on the desk and arm in a sling. His chest was wrapped a million and a half times to help the bullet holes close, but it seemed somehow he was going to live.

 

“You hate every little detail of everything,” Bianca reminded him as she hit his feet away from the food with her own feet. She set her empty chinese food box on the desk they were using for a lunch table and stretched back.

“I do not!” He complained, “Just...most things.”

“Get a room please.” Luke smarted to them both until they were blushing like red carnations in the spring.

“You know you could have died from breaking that pill in your teeth.” Zoe mused to Bianca, “It was both brilliant and insanely stupid of you, taking that while he was choking you to death.”

“But it lowered my heartrate to a single beat per minute, and effectively made it look like he already killed me.” The olive skinned girl countered, swiping one of her loose locks of hair behind her ear and under the brim of her green hat. “And technically saved your life. Can I get a Thank you?”

“I won’t arrest you for running an illegal Mafia and faking your death and killing your brother.”

“Good enough.”

Ethan yawned, before wincing, “Goddamn these ribs.” 

Bianca picked up an eggroll and contemplated it. “Next time you should try not falling off a balcony and into an own dumpster then, doofus.” When he opened his mouth to reply she shoved the eggroll in and smiled when he fell out of his chair choking. “Sorry what was that, Nakamura?”

“So Savage,” Luke ripped open a duck sauce packet and poured it over the last container of rice. “So what happened to Will Solace?”

Zoe sipped her bottle water, “The Director took pity on him. Two week Suspension, as long as he now reports directly to me. He’ll be back on Tuesday and I’ll have to find something for him to do then. Probably reorganizing the case archives for anything connected to Kronos. Even after taking down Hades we still have no leads on who dosed up you.”

He shuddered, “Don’t remind me,” He chewed miserably on his rice, “As acting asset, I would love to know who wanted me dead.”

“I’d like to know how you’re still alive,” Ethan swallowed a bite of vegetable, “It’s impossible for you to have built up an immunity to the drug and the fact that so much was just circulating your blood…” He tsked irritatedly, “It seems we were no closer to finding the source of the drug than they were, B.”

“Speaking of,” Zoe said, placing her water next to her computer with cap securely on, “What are you two planning on doing now?”

They shared a look.

“I’ll probably tag bits and pieces of my father’s gang for the police to bring down and make sure it stays down.” Bianca admitted, “Being dead has worked wonders in that area. People are more scared of my ghost than they ever were of me.”

“I most definitely won’t be selling anymore drugs.” Ethan said, “I gave your director my word in exchange for not being arrested on the spot in there.”

“Your word means nothing.” Zoe hummed disinterested again.

Ethan shrugged (and winced), again. “I don't know, really. I spent my whole life working with Cecil...He always told me I couldn't save everyone.” He was quiet for a moment. Bianca slipped her hand on his. The boy’s funeral had been the other day and they all had attended, bringing the total party to about twenty all standing around a hole in the ground and a headstone engraved with  _ “I must have made a  _ grave  _ mistake.” _ . Ethan dented the hood of his car afterwards, but his eyes had remained dry in front of Zoe. A girl with freakishly blonde hair had told him through tears not to bother dropping by again.

“I think... I need a change of scenery.” Ethan said finally.

Zoe looked around the dark office. Will’s desk was neat and orderly as it always was, but Nico’s was clean swept ready for it’s next agent as if the disturbed boy had never been there at all. The special agent almost felt sorry that she would never see him sitting there brooding again, but everytime she closed her eyes she could see his maniac smile as she put a gun to her heart. It was hard for that to not ruin the friendship they’d had. It would take Will a long time to make it up to her for his own betrayal, too. If there was one thing Zoe was better at than shooting her gun, it was holding a grudge. 

Luke yawned this time. He was wearing a borrowed Police Academy sweatshirt. Even though he was only signed on as an asset for his memorizing skill, he’d informed Zoe that he would be taking the Police training course in the next class. He had the nerve to joke about being assigned as her partner one day, too! 

She had told him to keep dreaming.

It seemed that the nightmare off the past couple days was finally over, so they did the most normal thing the four of them could think of: bought Chinese food to eat and discussed the case itself for inconsistencies even though it was already over. They had survived.

Zoe wondered how many times she'd stopped to marvel at that. Her arm ached with a dulled pain she elected to ignore. 

Her phone started buzzing, shaking their makeshift dinner table. Zoe sighed as she check the caller ID. 

“Zoe Nightshade, What do you need Perc--”

“You’re working the Castellan case right?” Percy Jackson cut her off haggard and out of breath, “Listen this is super important! They weren’t after Castellan!” 

“Percy what are you--”

“I think- no, I  _ know _ our cases are connected Zoe!”

“You’re in…” Zoe racked her brain for the location he had told her all those days ago, “California! Why would someone in California want--”

“Look I’ll explain later, Nightshade, I swear.” He panted, “Just get on the next plane out here. And watch you back! I thi--ARGH!”

“Percy?” Zoe frowned, “Jackson!” He didn’t respond. She glanced at her phone just in time to see it flash the two minute call time and go dark again. Percy had hung up. Or someone on Percy’s side had hung up. 

Zoe sighed and rolled her eyes, before turning to Ethan, “Got any contacts in California?”

He frowned, “A couple. Something going on?”

“It seems like I’m going on a work trip. Castellan you, too.” The blonde boy raised an eyebrow as if to ask “Who me?”

“Well that's certainly a change of scenery,” Ethan flicked a piece of egg roll at Bianca, “Hey, love, what do you think about a beach vacation?”

“Are you planning on bringing work on our honeymoon?”

“Only the fun kind.”

Bianca sighed, but she was smiling, “Well, if you insist.”

Zoe plucked her jacket off her seat, the new leather feeling oddly comforting. She smiled at the three around her, “Let’s get this over with.”


End file.
